


The Revenant

by bearfeathers



Series: it is not in the stars to hold our destiny [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because Others Make Them lol, Begrudging Redemption, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, But they get better, Childhood Trauma, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Fix-It, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Armitage Hux, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Gen, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kylo & Hux & Phasma Aren't Good People, Leia Organa Deserves Better, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Multi, Redemption, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: Sometimes the things we thought we killed have a way of coming back.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kaydel Ko Connix/Dopheld Mitaka (background), Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Leia Organa & Everyone, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey
Series: it is not in the stars to hold our destiny [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732366
Comments: 43
Kudos: 147





	1. celabimus et quaeris

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and ratings subject to change.
> 
> Look, TRoS just didn't do it for me. So I'm playing around in the sandbox for a bit. While this is a redemption story for Kylo, Hux and Phasma, rest assured they're not getting off easy. I'm intending to put them through their paces. You don't get redeemed just because someone loves you.

Finn could say he didn’t know why he'd done it.

But he’d be lying.

Admittedly, standing over General Hux with a blaster in his hand and having just shot him gave Finn a rush of adrenaline it probably shouldn’t have. The man in charge of the stormtrooper program—the program that had been responsible for him and all the others like him, that had ripped him from his parents and his home to mold him into a useful tool for the First Order—on the ground and at his mercy. Funny, though, that Hux didn’t seem all that much older than him. He couldn’t have been more than a child himself when Finn had been born. A child playing with toys; that’s all they were to him.

Finn could end it right here. He could do it. Just one more squeeze of the blaster trigger; the work of a moment. But then he’d never know.

“Why are you doing this? Why help us?” he asks.

The question brings a scowl to the general’s face. “I don’t care if you win, I just need Kylo Ren to _lose_.”

He could leave it at that; chalk it up to petty rivalry.

And it is that.

Just… not completely.

It’s such a small feeling. Like a single ripple in a vast ocean, so minute he very nearly misses it entirely. But it’s there, coated in layers upon layers of negative emotion. Buried. Maybe intentionally, even. It’s not like the feelings he gets from Rey at times. Not entirely, anyway. He doesn’t know exactly how to describe it and he doesn’t have time to stand here and ponder it. So, he decides to go with his gut.

“You’re coming with us,” Finn says, clipping the blaster to his belt.

Hux snorts condescendingly. “I am doing no such thing. I’ve done my part, now get off my sh—”

It may not be the same as shooting him, but the sound of the general choking as Finn drags him by his uniform collar down the walkway remains deeply satisfying none-the-less.

“Whoaaaaa, whoa, whoa,” Poe says, holding his hands up and blocking the entrance to the Falcon. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”

“We need to take him with us,” Finn says.

Poe raises an eyebrow at that. Chewie growls uncertainly behind him. Hux complains loudly until Finn shakes him by the collar.

“I know, I know, it seems like a bad idea,” Finn says.

“A really bad idea.”

“But I need you to just trust me,” Finn says. “Please.”

He stares into the pilot’s eyes, trying to find some way in, trying to find some way to convey the things he himself doesn’t even have answers to. Poe stares back, his brow knit in concentration as though looking for something himself. Whatever it is, he must find it, for in the next moment those brown eyes soften and he reaches out. His hand is warm and solid on Finn's shoulder as he squeezes.

“I trust you.”

The words have the same warm weight as his hand and Finn can’t help the smile that plucks at his lips.

“Oh, spare me,” Hux grumbles behind him, beginning to clamber to his feet.

The general makes a choked off noise as Finn drags him forward, past the way that Poe has opened for him. The Resistance pilot grins widely.

“Against my better judgment, looks like we’re gonna, Hugs.”

* * *

Rey isn’t herself.

That much is readily apparent to Finn as they work side by side to get the Falcon operating as smoothly as possible. Though her hands are swift, her fingers nimble, her mind is elsewhere.

“He killed my mother. And my father,” Rey murmurs beside him, her gaze distant. “I have to find Palpatine… and destroy him.”

“Rey,” Finn says softly, turning to face her. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

When she fails to answer, he shakes his head, presses on. “Rey, I know you and—”

“People keep saying they know me,” she interrupts him. He sees the emotions at war on her face, mirroring only a fraction of what’s in her heart. “I’m afraid no one does.”

This can’t be left alone any longer. He can’t allow it to fester within her, rotting away and robbing her of the wild, wonderful spirit he’s come to love in her. Reaching out and grasping her hand in his feels natural and grounding in all the ways it should. She allows the action, her hand squeezing his back, seeking an anchor in the raging tide she had never asked to wade into.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Finn assures her.

Rey’s eyes narrow, her expression bitter. “How can you think that _nothing_ has changed?”

“I mean that this doesn’t change anything about _you_ ,” Finn elaborates, squeezing her hand even tighter than before. “Knowing where you come from doesn’t change who you are. You’re still Rey. You’re still my friend. You’re still Poe's friend. You’re still someone I’ll be standing beside no matter how all of this ends. That’s what I mean when I say that this changes nothing.”

The former scavenger looks to him with wet eyes, saying nothing. She appears as though she would love nothing more than to believe that. But whether she does is another question.

“Finn, I—”

The change in her is instantaneous. He feels it vibrate through him to his core like a struck gong. She’s on edge, anxious, alert. Her head whips to the side and as he follows her gaze, Finn finds himself looking at Hux. The general sits uncomfortably straight, his wrists bound by spare cables Rey had retrieved from who-knows-where the second she’d first laid eyes on him. But now it’s as though she’s only just noticed him.

“He knows where we are,” Rey murmurs under her breath.

“I’m not following,” Finn admits, looking between her and their spy.

Ignoring him—or perhaps not having even heard him in the first place—Rey pulls away from him and marches quickly over to Hux. The redhead looks to her with an expression which is a unique combination of disinterest and repulsion.

“Why does he have a connection to you?” Rey demands, her jaw clenched.

Hux arcs an eyebrow. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ben—Kylo Ren,” she says, tripping over the names as though she isn’t certain which she should be using. “Why can I sense a connection between you?”

Finn’s heart skips a beat. That thing. That faint ripple. She can sense it, too. Better than he can. Hux, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be on quite the same page.

“I don’t have a _connection_ with anyone,” he sneers.

“You’re lying,” Rey insists, taking a step closer to him. “I can sense it. It’s there, whether you like it or not.”

Hux somehow manages to achieve the effect of having rolled his eyes without his gaze ever moving from Rey. “Oh, please. As if I would willingly have anything to do with _him_. You’re delusional.”

Rey’s hands clench into fists at her sides as she stares Hux down. “I’m not going to let him get to us because of you.”

She raises a hand.

* * *

“I know where she’s going,” Kylo says, seemingly to thin air. “She’ll never be a Jedi.”

_“Make sure of it—kill her.”_

With Palpatine's disembodied voice still echoing in his mind, he turns on his heel and marches down the corridor, his robe billowing behind him. Yes, he’ll make sure if it. But before he does that, there’s one more matter which requires his attention: their little spy problem.

Pryde had wasted no time in informing him that Hux had been discovered as their spy, but really, he needn’t have bothered. Kylo had felt it. That little tug in the Force, telling him that Hux was moving further and further away by the second. He’d had his suspicions, of course, but part of Kylo assumed Hux would never dare. Since nearly the moment they’d met, Hux’s ambitions had been no secret. Quite the contrary, they’d been his defining characteristic. It had seemed that no matter what Snoke had asked of him, no matter how their Supreme Leader had faulted him, blamed him, demeaned him, Hux had just come back for more. Because whenever he had done so, there had been a fire in his eyes; one which said he would be there long after those around him were dead, gone, dust. One which said he would rule and achieve where all of them had failed.

But apparently, even Hux had his limits. And it seems Kylo’s changes as Supreme Leader were enough to convince the general to turn on the First Order, spiteful coward that he is.

There was a time in the beginning—when he was someone between Ben Solo and Kylo Ren—where they might have had something. Where they _could_ have been allies. Powerful ones, at that. But soon enough their ambitions lead them down two different paths, putting them ever more and more at odds with one another until whatever could have been was smothered under a hatred that burned as bright and angry as his lightsaber.

Reaching his quarters, Kylo quickly crosses to the center of the room and lowers himself to the floor, settling into a cross-legged posture. He removes his helmet and places it in his lap, inhaling deeply as he closes his eyes and focuses on clearing his mind.

The bond between them is a single thread shimmering faintly in the recesses of his mind. It had been formed in that _before_ time; before they had come to despise each other so thoroughly. It had been stronger then, too. But the rope had been whittled down with each new insult, each new chance to step on the other’s toes, each opportunity to draw blood. It had unraveled further and further until it was nothing more than a single thread; something so thin that he had been sure the tether would break in short order.

Yet it hadn’t. It was a curious thing, this tenacious little string. Kylo isn’t sure whether it was his doing or Hux’s that kept it intact and frankly, he didn’t care to examine that question too closely. It had its uses to him and so the matter of _why_ it still existed was of little importance.

Preparing himself, Kylo reaches out to the thread and pulls.

* * *

_It’s raining._

_It’s always raining in Hux's mind._

_Kylo knows this is simply a projection of the general’s home planet of Arkanis, but he’s always found it an odd choice all the same. As far as he’s aware, Hux hasn’t set foot there in nearly thirty years. That’s what records indicate, at least. But there’s sentiment tied to this place and as much as Hux would like to think himself above such things, he isn’t. Sentiment is a weakness that can plague even the mightiest of men._

_Kylo trudges down the muddy street. It’s empty, as it always is. Most people’s minds have a way of filling empty spaces with other occupants—memories of relatives or friends or neighbors or even enemies. Hux’s mind has always been curiously devoid of any manner of person. In the numerous times which Kylo has been here—with or without the general’s knowledge—it has been occupied by Hux and Hux alone. Sometimes this worked to Kylo’s benefit when he wished to get to brass tacks. Other times it proved more of an impedance; it’s far more difficult to stealthily blend in where there’s no one to blend in with. Thankfully this occasion requires no stealth._

_However, as Kylo roughly shoves open the door to the small hut he always finds Hux in, he’s faced with something he’s never seen before: another person._

_Rey’s head whips towards him at the sound of the door slamming open. She’s soaking wet, her brown hair clinging to her face in strands as she shivers from the chill of her damp clothes. Hux’s surprised gaze finds him at nearly the same time and now Kylo knows something is not right._

_Hux is always bone dry. Each and every time Kylo has been here, Hux has been inside this house with the hearth lit and drier than the sand on Jakku. Now, though, the hearth sits cold and empty and the general stares back at him from beneath the mop of red hair plastered to his forehead with rainwater. His wet uniform clings to his frame, making him look as small and pitiful as Kylo had always imagined him to be._

_“You’re not supposed to be here,” Kylo says stiffly, addressing Rey._

_“And you are?” Rey counters._

_“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Kylo demands, ignoring her question. “Did Skywalker teach you nothing at all?”_

_“He taught me enough,” Rey says, lifting her chin defiantly. She jabs a finger at Hux, keeping her eyes trained on Kylo. “Why do you have a connection with him?”_

_Kylo snorts. “You say he taught you enough and yet you don’t even understand the basics.”_

_“I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Rey says, challenging him. “Because this connection shouldn’t exist. If you hate each other so much—"_

_“You understand **nothing** ,” Kylo reiterates. “You’re just a child, blundering about and knocking into everything around you, expecting others to cater to your naiveté.”_

_“You haven’t answered my question. But I suppose that’s all the answer I need,” Rey says._

_There’s a gleam of triumph in her eyes but it lasts a mere moment before her eyes soften and eventually harden until they look like two dark coals in her face. Kylo swears he feels the chill deepen within the room._

_“Don’t follow us,” Rey says. “Don’t make me do what we both know I’ll have to.”_

_“You say that, but can you truly follow through?” Kylo wonders. He takes a step towards her. He needs to get her to see reason; she won’t join him otherwise. “Stop running and let me come to you. You know you don’t belong with them. They don’t understand you, not the way I do.”_

_“Shut up,” she snaps at him. “Just stay away from me.”_

_The chill in the room deepens further still until Kylo can feel the tips of his fingers and toes numbing. It’s usually not quite this… visceral. But then, Kylo has had many years of practice and possesses a fine level of control when it comes to entering someone’s mind. Rey doesn’t even have a fraction of that experience, not when her Jedi training had only begun this past year._

_It’s in the midst of these thoughts that Kylo realizes he hasn’t heard a word from Hux. Unusual, since he typically never wastes an opportunity to mouth off at Kylo. When he turns his head to look, he finds Hux seated just as he had been when Kylo had entered. Only he seems off, somehow. He stares straight ahead of him at the door, his lips parted but no sound emerging. His hands clench at the fabric of his uniform pants until his knuckles are such a stark white that Kylo could almost swear he’s looking at bone._

_Panic stabs at Kylo’s chest unbidden and he turns his attention quickly back to Rey._

_“Get out. **Now** ,” he says threateningly._

_“I’m not going—”_

_“Are you blind? You have no sense of control,” Kylo hisses, jabbing a finger at Hux. “Your presence is too large, it’s too much for Force null mind to handle with both of us here.”_

_Rey’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That’s not…”_

_“Get. **Out** ,” Kylo snarls._

_He takes a step forward._

_He puts his hands on her shoulders._

_And shoves._

* * *

Rey gasps.

The feeling of hands on her shoulders sends a surge of panic through her and she struggles to get her limbs to cooperate. She needs to throw him off. She needs to fight back.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

That voice.

It’s not him. It’s—

“Poe,” Rey says breathlessly.

The pilot seems to be nursing a split lip as Finn holds her by her biceps. Chewie croons worriedly from the pilot’s seat behind them with C-3PO hovering nearby, the group giving her a collectively concerned look.

“Rey,” Finn says gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… I think so,” Rey says, not entirely sure. There’s a throbbing in the knuckles of her right hand and given how she’d just been flailing about… She winces as she looks to Poe’s bloodied lip. “Did I do that?”

“I’ve had worse,” Poe assures her, managing a smile. “You’ve got a mean right hook, though, I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh, Poe... I’m so sorry,” Rey says softly, feeling shame creep in to replace her waning adrenaline.

She reaches out, unable to help herself. Thankfully Poe doesn’t seem put off by her touch as she traces the tips of her fingers below his split lip. It feels strangely grounding after the jarring experience of having been pushed out of Hux's mind by Ben. She focuses on the coarse sensation of the stubble lining Poe’s jaw against her fingers, the warmth of Finn’s hands around her arms and the way his thumbs move against her skin in slow, soothing circles. The ex-stormtrooper gives her arms a light squeeze just as Poe reaches to hold the hand she’d cupped against his cheek, both of them acting to remind her of their presence. To remind her that they’re solid and beside her. Just as Finn had said they would be.

“It’s okay, Rey,” he tells her. “We’re all fine. Are you sure _you_ are?”

She must not look it. Is she alright? Well, no, not really. But that has more to do with recent events than it does with her venture into Hux's mind. She hadn’t even managed to accomplish the task she’d set out to perform in going there. Ben will follow them; she hadn’t been able to shut him out. Worse yet, she’d been tossed out. No matter how hard she trained or whatever innate ability she has, this had just been a reminder that she can’t hold a candle to Ben’s abilities.

He’d known enough to be able to tell Rey had been overwhelming Hux's mind where she hadn’t had any idea. Then again, there was that connection between them working in his favor. At first glance, it had looked so thin she’d thought it would be equally as frail. But she’d found it to be anything but. That single thread had shown her its strength when Ben had inadvertently shown his hand. Rey had felt his anger as he ejected her, but she’d also felt what that anger was rooted in: worry.

Ben had been _worried_ about Hux.

Glancing behind her, she can begin to see why. Hux is looking a little worse for wear. He pulls in deep breaths as blood pours from his nose and drips down his chin, his gaze aimed at where his hands lie clenched in his lap. Ben had been right. She’d made a mistake, her inexperience and her anger leading her to do someone harm. She realizes with a sinking sensation that she’d behaved no better than Ben had, forcing her way into someone’s mind against their will.

It’s true that Hux is hardly what she would consider an innocent person, but how can she claim to be better than them when she does precisely the same as they do? Does it make it any better if she does it for a good reason? Can she say she’s on the side of the Light when something like this had come so easily to her?

But Rey _wants_ to be different. She needs to be. And she can start right now. Gently shrugging out of Finn’s hold, Rey turns on her heel and slowly approaches Hux. She raises her hands peaceably.

“I’m sorry,” she says, finding that she truly means it. “I hadn’t meant to… I mean, I can help. I can fix that for you.”

Apparently having gotten too close, Rey is startled when Hux knocks her hands away from him. His eyes are unfocused but the line of tension in his shoulders tells her not to try approaching him again.

“You’ve done enough,” he says, his tone clipped. “I don’t need your help.”

Looking at him bloodied and slumped in his seat makes her want to argue the point, but she swallows her pride and merely nods her head. No, of course, he wouldn’t want her within a parsec of him if he could help it. Rey backs away quietly and rejoins her friends, feeling queasy the more she thinks about it all.

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” Finn advises her.

Rey shakes her head. “I have to. I’m responsible for… that. I didn’t realize until Ben told me—”

“Hang on, you saw Ren?” Poe interrupts. “Where?”

“In Hux's mind,” Rey answers. “There’s a Force bond between them.”

“It’s why I wanted to bring him with us,” Finn tacks on, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Except I didn’t know exactly what it was, just that there was… something.”

Rey’s eyes light up with joy at the same time that Poe’s fill with confusion.

“You can feel it?” she asks.

Finn shifts where he stands, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… It’s… I mean, I’ve been feeling things—little things—since we met and… I wasn’t sure exactly why it was or if it was anything, but sometimes I feel… I feel _you_. I can’t explain it exactly, but this felt kind of like that, just… not.”

Although she’s aware of the perplexed look Poe is shooting both of them, Rey can’t focus on the sudden sensation of her heart being too large for her chest. A rush of elation fills her at the realization that he can _feel_ her. She thinks back to her training, back to the mantra she had repeated over and over, seemingly to no avail.

_Be with me._

_Be with me._

She reaches out slowly, curiously. And he’s _there_. Of course, she’s felt his presence within the Force before, but she’s never felt it reciprocated. She’s never felt this cautious, searching response reaching back towards her. It’s soft and faint for now—as though they are stretched across a great divide, touching only by the tips of their fingers. But he reaches her. He meets her.

“You’ve been with me,” Rey says slowly, realization dawning on her as she says it.

“Yes?” Poe interjects.

His raised eyebrow tells her he’d like an explanation. Now. He’s impatient like that. But when it’s not getting on your last nerve it can be a little charming. Sometimes. Just not right now.

“No, it’s…” Rey begins. She clucks her tongue in frustration as she fails to find a way to explain it as thoroughly as she would like. “I was searching for the presence of others within the Force. Jedi who are no longer living. People like Master Skywalker. And I think perhaps I was so focused on those who aren’t here that I was blind to those that are.”

Poe looks between them, placing his hands on his hips. “So, you’re saying Finn's a…? What, he’s sensitive?”

“Yes,” Rey says, unable to prevent a small smile from forming on her face.

“But I don’t think it’s all that strong,” Finn is quick to say. “I don’t always get these feelings and even when I do, they’re just, well, feelings.”

Rey watches a frown slowly forming on Poe’s face. It’s peculiar. She doesn’t get the sensation that he’s unhappy with this development or jealous, but there’s still a faint trickle of disappointment that reaches her.

Chewie's growl interrupts her thoughts. It seems they’ll soon be reaching their destination. Hearing that, Poe eagerly clambers back into the cockpit, and the moment has passed. Right now, Rey has to focus on why they’re here in the first place, but once everything is said and done…

They’ll revisit this moment later. All three of them.


	2. fractis fixa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough landing on Kef Bir, the group begins the search for the wayfinder. Unfortunately, their landing isn't the only thing about their stay that's going to be rough.

Hux’s head aches. His leg throbs. And Dameron's landing hadn’t done him any favors. The sounds of the rebels clambering about the interior of the _Falcon_ barely reach him, despite the fact that they’re mere feet away.

Ren.

Ren had been in his head again.

It had been so long that he’d foolishly entertained the notion that their Supreme Leader may have just moved on from him. After all, he had promoted Pryde to a position that Hux had earned. He’d given Pryde command of the army that Hux had formed. He’d made sure that Hux knew what he was worth to him: _nothing_.

But of course, Ren had merely been busy. How ridiculous to think that he’d been spared from further being subjected to that particular torture. Ren had never had any qualms about prying his way into Hux’s mind before, so why would mere boredom or preoccupation change that?

Yet even as he bitterly stews over this recent violation, in the back of his mind, he knows it had been different. _Something_ had been. Perhaps it was merely the scavenger girl’s presence, but Ren had seemed strangely defensive. And not of himself, but of _Hux_. Because Hux hadn’t been able to communicate that it felt as though his head were splitting open. He couldn’t communicate anything at all but somehow Ren had known. He’d known and had given a damn about it.

It’s clearly just because Hux still has some sort of use to him, but for a moment… For a moment after the girl had been ejected, Ren had held his face between his hands and he'd knelt to meet Hux’s eyes, and he had almost— _almost_ —seemed concerned. An illusion, Hux knows, produced by his addled mind in a moment of weakness, but he swears he’d never seen such a look on Ren’s face. It had nearly been _gentle_.

A ludicrous thought, to be sure. Kylo Ren is not gentle. If any part of him is, it’s merely the fragmented remains of Ben Solo circling the drain. Hux has been thrown into enough walls and consoles to be able to rationalize this supposed gentleness as a specter conjured by his overtaxed mind.

He startles when a hand meets his shoulder. Not a large hand in black leather, but a small, tanned one. He looks up. Ah. The scavenger girl.

“Can you hear me?” she asks him.

He suppresses a wince. Everything which had sounded hollow and distant just minutes ago now comes through loud and piercing, her words leaving his ears ringing.

“Of course I can hear you,” Hux grumbles. “I doubt there’s anyone in this system who can’t.”

Rey frowns at him, looking unimpressed. “Oh really? So you haven’t been acknowledging me for the last minute by choice, then.”

“Obviously,” Hux bluffs, not enjoying the fact that he’s been caught off guard.

“Good!” Rey says with forced cheer. “Then you know we’re walking from here and we can’t have any dead weight.”

Hux is about to reply when he sees the scavenger reach for something at her thigh which chills his blood. A vibroknife. No dead weight, that’s what she’d just said. Obviously he’s outlived his usefulness in their eyes. He’d gotten them out of a sticky situation, but now that he had undoubtedly been pegged as the spy by the First Order, he’d have very little use as a bargaining chip. It doesn’t mean he’s without his uses entirely, though. After all, as a high-ranking officer and an engineer responsible for the design of much of the Order’s technological advancements, he—

But while he’s busy cobbling together an excuse, the girl strikes.

“Wait!”

The startled yelp has barely left his lips before the vibroknife is thrust towards him, cutting through the cables binding his wrists… and nothing else. He feels intensely stupid as the girl re-sheathes the vibroknife and he’s left staring down at his bare wrists as the feeling slowly returns to his hands in sharp pins and needles.

“We can’t leave you here alone and we’re not about to carry you,” Rey explains to him. She places a roll of bandages and a cloth on the seat beside him. “So we’ll give you a few moments to bind your leg and clean yourself up before we set off.”

Hux wonders if they truly are this stupid in the Resistance. And if they are, what does that say about the First Order for failing to eradicate them?

“You do realize this is a profoundly unwise choice,” Hux drawls.

Rey merely shrugs as she straightens and adjusts her belt.

“I could escape,” Hux says.

“You could,” Rey agrees. “But there really isn’t anywhere for you to escape _to_.”

A fair point. Kef Bir offers little more than wild, unpredictable seas and harsh planes. Though the ocean moon of Endor plays host to the wreck of the Death Star, he has little faith that it could offer anything of use to him. It had likely been picked clean by scavengers before he’d even been old enough to walk.

“I could attack you,” he says.

“I don’t see you as much of a threat,” she says. “So I’m willing to take the risk.”

Hux wills himself not to rise to the bait, but he feels his cheeks warm all the same. No matter how he learned to school his features, to control his temper, this always gave him away. Shame paints itself like rouge on his pale skin. But Rey doesn’t look smug or victorious in the face of his humiliation. Merely impatient, it seems, waiting for him to say something else or not, clearly itching to be moving.

“We’re leaving shortly,” she says, turning her back on him and calling over her shoulder as she begins to exit the Falcon. “Come join us once you’re finished.”

Left alone, Hux glances to the bandages and cloth which had been left for him. He’s starting to think he would have been better off left to his fate on the _Steadfast_.

* * *

Although Poe trusted Finn's decision to take Hux with them, it didn’t stop him from worrying about what the consequences of that decision would be. At present, their band of merry men is trudging across the planes with the shadow of the Death Star looming on the horizon. Hux limps along at the rear of the group, grousing loudly as Chewie occasionally prods him along when he begins to fall behind. Poe supposes Hux’s leg feels about as good as his arm does at the moment, but they don’t exactly have time to be hanging around and licking their wounds.

Rey and Finn head the group just a few feet in front of him. Close enough that he can hear them talking, but far enough away that the harsh wind steals away the words before they reach his ears. Just as well, he supposes. It’s not his place to listen in on their conversation. Especially not now.

Poe has always known there was a connection between his two friends. Something special. Something that he couldn’t quite grasp. Maybe it was the Force, maybe it was something else, but it was _there_. It’s never been more obvious to him than that moment on the _Falcon_ when Finn had voiced his thoughts on the supposed Force bond between their newfound spy buddy and the Jedi Killer. Poe doesn’t claim to be an expert on the Force—his knowledge cobbled together from bits and pieces he’s learned from Leia and Rey, things he’d been told by Ben back when he still called himself that and they were both still young and stupid—but he’d have to be a fool not to notice that something changed in that moment.

And, really, he’s happy for them. He is. They’re his friends, of course he wants what’s best for them. Maybe it just stings a little more than it should now that he has to face what he’s known all along; namely that what’s best for them doesn’t include him. Poe has gotten used to it just being the three of them. He’s grown comfortable with it. And it’s his own fault, really. I mean, what was he expecting? He’s too old for them, too embedded in the Resistance. They’ll want normalcy at some point. Any rational person would. And the fact of the matter is, that’s not something he can give either of them.

But he’s not moping. And even if he were, now wouldn’t be the time for it.

“Fuck,” Finn blurts.

Poe frowns until he sees what had drawn the former stormtrooper's ire. They stand atop a jagged cliff, the way between them and the Death Star blocked by the sea. Inky black waves crash against the rocks, pelting them with sea spray as the wind whips the water into a dark, torrid nightmare.

“There has to be another way to get to it,” Rey exclaims, frustration coloring her tone.

“Well, first things first, we need to know _where_ we’re looking,” Finn points out. “That thing’s enormous.”

Poe, struck by an idea after hearing Finn’s words, turns to Hux. “Hey, Hugs. You’re an imperial legacy brat. Know anything about the layout of that thing?”

The jab seems to fly right over the general’s head. Poe’s pretty sure he’s found his entertainment for the rest of their journey.

“I have had the blueprints memorized since I was eight,” Hux declares proudly. “I know everything about it.”

“We’re looking for something which was hidden within it,” Rey says. “A Sith relic called a—”

“I can’t help you,” Hux says, speaking over her.

“You mean you _won’t_ help us,” Poe clarifies. “Gotta say, you picked a pretty lousy time to be a holdout.”

Hux huffs impatiently. “No, I mean I _can’t_ help you. I have perfect knowledge of _the Death Star_ , not your mystic nonsense. I’ll die happy if I can keep it that way.”

“You know, I really admire how proud you are of protecting your ignorance,” Poe says with a smile.

But while Poe has been busy egging Hux on, Rey has been studying the dagger in her hands. He feels a prickle of unease when suddenly she seems to find something they’d overlooked. Picking at the hilt with her nail reveals something hidden within. To Poe, it looks like some sort of protractor, but as Rey holds it up against the shadow of the Death Star on the horizon, he thinks he knows what its actual purpose is.

Rey turns slowly, Poe following her gaze with Finn right alongside him, until at last the jagged edges of the dagger align with the shape of the heaping wreck across the tumultuous sea. The metal protractor that had been pulled from the hilt points with an ominous red tip.

“The wayfinder is there,” Rey says with a certainty that leaves Poe feeling unsettled.

But before they can discuss the issue any further, a loud animalistic grunt and the clopping of hooves sound from behind them. Poe turns on the spot, drawing his blaster and doing his best to place himself in front of Finn and Rey. A large group of riders gallops closer, drawing up several feet short of them. They don’t appear all that worried by Poe or Finn’s blasters, but Poe isn’t about to give them any indication that fact worries him.

“Rough landing,” their apparent leader calls over the wind.

“I’ve seen worse,” Poe argues, keeping his blaster raised.

“I’ve seen better,” the woman retorts.

Poe hears a snort from Hux in apparent agreement before Chewie cuffs him over the back of the head. The woman eyes Hux warily before looking back to Poe.

“Are you Resistance?” she asks.

“That depends,” Poe says, equally as wary.

There’s no telling who these people are or which side they play for—if they play for one at all. He chances a glance towards Hux, wondering if the general-turned-spy might offer any clues. While none of them are exactly comfortable with the present scenario, Hux looks downright petrified. He knows something.

“We picked up a transmission from someone named Babu Frik,” the woman goes on to say.

“Babu Frik!” 3PO exclaims excitedly behind him. “Oh, he’s one of my oldest friends!”

Thankfully the woman doesn’t seem put off by the protocol droid’s enthusiasm. “He said you’d come. He said you were the last hope.”

The sudden, jarring reminder of their circumstances makes his stomach flip. Not that he’d ever forgotten, but the adrenaline rush of escaping from the _Steadfast_ had pushed it temporarily to the back of his mind. The enormity of it, that is. That the fate of the galaxy is hanging on their actions.

“But why is _he_ with you?”

The woman gestures to Hux who pales further, if it’s even possible. Poe shakes his head.

“He’s been playing spy for the Resistance,” Poe explains. He eyes their weaponry. “And I’d kind of like to get him back to General Organa alive.”

The woman pauses, seemingly thinking it over. It’s clear she knows who Hux is and is taking the news of him being a spy with a grain of salt. Which is fair, frankly.

“Fine,” the woman says. She doesn’t look happy about it but as long as no one’s shooting anyone, Poe isn’t going to push his luck. “I’m Jannah.”

Poe and Finn lower their weapons as Jannah's group lower theirs. Trudging forward, Poe begins the process of introductions. Although Jannah can get them to the wreck, it seems by sea is the only way to do it, which means it will have to wait until tomorrow. But until then, it’s decided that they can make repairs on the _Falcon_ in the meantime.

As they begin the march back to their ship, Poe can sense the frustration coming from Rey even _without_ the Force. But Finn hangs back, speaking quietly to her, his words easing some of the tension from her frame.

Poe faces forward and walks on.

* * *

If a year ago you had told Hux he would willingly be helping rebels repair their ship, he would have laughed at you. Laughed and then sent you for reconditioning since you clearly had a screw loose.

Now, however, he finds himself in the guts of the _Falcon_ , back to back with FN-2187—or Finn, rather. He’s been cuffed by the Wookie enough times to mentally correct himself when he’s about to refer to the ex-stormtrooper by his old designation. Though, it would seem he’s in good company here.

“This is a First Order part,” Finn says, staring at what has just been handed to him.

“From a ship up on the ridge—stripped for parts,” Jannah explains easily. “The ship we were assigned to. The one we escaped in.”

She levels her icy gaze at Hux even while Finn gapes at her. “Wait, you’re a…?”

“Was,” Jannah corrects him. “Not anymore.”

Hux sighs, preferring to concentrate on his work to get this piece of scrap metal back in the air. But it’s likely best to address this now before one of these deserters kills him in his sleep. “FN-2187, meet TZ-1719. TZ-1719, meet FN-2187.”

“It’s _Finn_.”

“It’s _Jannah_.”

He’s met with stubborn, stony insistence at the utterance of their designations, but that’s no surprise. “Yes, yes, have it your way.”

The pair quickly ignore him as Finn clambers up out of the hole and engages his newfound friend in conversation. As if that’s going to get them up and moving any sooner. Pleasantries are a waste of time and this sort of social _bonding_ even more so. It’s the sort of thing which should be left in childhood.

_We can escape together. We can run until we find someplace safe. And then after we do, I can come back for my moth—_

Hux grinds the heel of his palm into his eye. He can feel the headache that never really went away beginning to rear its head once more. All because of Ren and the girl messing about in his head. Yes, that’s the reason. It’s their fault, stomping about like they had any right to be there, stirring up things he’d packed away long ago.

“Hey, not bad work, Hugs.”

He startles slightly when he looks up to find Dameron leaning over the edge, peering at his handiwork as he retrieves some tools. He’s getting careless letting them sneak up on him. He has to remain focused.

“Didn’t peg you as a grease monkey,” Dameron says with a grin.

“I’m an engineer,” Hux finds himself saying defensively. “Considering I pioneered the development of a working hyperspace tracker, I think even a lost cause like this one should be manageable.”

“ _You_ developed the hyperspace tracker?” Dameron says, a look of disbelief painting his features. “You mean you had someone develop it for you, right?”

“No, I mean _I developed it_ ,” Hux says impatiently. If there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s having his achievements go unacknowledged. “The Tarkin Initiative began study of the theory during the Empire's reign. After many years of searching, I was able to locate Galen Erso's notes on the matter. They were largely incomplete but had their uses. Once I had completed my design, it was simply a matter of gathering material and assembling a team capable of constructing it to my specifications.”

“Huh,” Dameron merely says, grabbing a screwdriver. “Imagine that.”

Of course, he shouldn’t have expected rebel scum to appreciate the work that had gone into it. The _years_ he had put into it, just as he had with Starkiller Base. And for what? All to wind up on the run from the very organization he had created them for.

“Imagine if you’d come to work for our side sooner,” Dameron says.

“I am not working for your side,” Hux corrects him, replacing a panel once he’d finished repairing the wiring.

“You kind of are,” Dameron says with a laugh. “Look, even if you just bailed because you know a lost cause when you see one—which, by the way, I strongly suspect you did—the fact of the matter is, you’re still helping us. Regardless of your endgame.”

Hux does _not_ like admitting Dameron is right. But he is. It’s just that Hux would rather not think too deeply on any of that just now.

“What _is_ your endgame by the way?” Dameron asks.

“To bring order to the universe,” Hux says without pause.

And Dameron laughs at him.

“What exactly about that is so amusing?” Hux asks bitterly.

“Oh, man,” Dameron says, still chuckling as he wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. “You’ve got a pretty twisted sense of order.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “You know nothing of my sense of order. I was _meant_ to ascend to the seat of Supreme Leader, whereupon I could enact my plans. But then Ren had the nerve to continue living and take the title which was rightfully mine.”

By this point, Dameron has actually begun to grow interested. He’s slipped down into open compartment alongside Hux, taking Finn’s place after he had gone off with the other deserter to do he-knows-not-what. Although Dameron is still hard at work, he continues to pelt Hux with questions, though Hux hasn’t the faintest idea why. To annoy him, most likely.

“So, these plans of yours,” Poe says conversationally, “what were they?”

“Exactly how stupid do you believe me to be, Dameron?” Hux asks, his tone flat.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Hugs,” Dameron says. “I’m just curious what changes Supreme Leader Hux would have made.”

“Numerous,” Hux says shortly.

As if he’s about to start spilling his secrets just because Dameron had asked. Honestly, he wonders what he was thinking when he decided to start aiding the Resistance. Oh, that’s right. He was thinking that Kylo Ren had ruined his life’s work. Still, he can’t believe he’d been pushed to _this_.

“Alright then, keep your secrets,” Dameron says easily, sounding entirely unbothered.

A series of furious beeps interrupts any further thinking Hux was about to do on the matter. Dameron’s BB unit rocks anxiously at the edge of the compartment.

“What’s up, buddy?” Dameron asks.

The BB unit beeps with even more urgency. Hux raises his eyebrows.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” Dameron asks, already beginning to climb out.

Well, it seems rash decision making is an illness that afflicts _all_ Force users.

* * *

Poe looks through the binoculars Finn had passed to him and promptly feels his heart in his throat. A lone skimmer battles the waves, making the treacherous journey towards the hulking wreck of the Death Star.

Rey.

He feels sick. His chest constricts painfully, like his ribcage is curling in on itself and crushing every organ within it. She’s going to get herself killed. _God_ , she’s going to die. They’re going to lose her.

He hurries back down the hill with Finn and Jannah, feeling fear and anger roiling within him until he can taste bile at the back of his throat.

“What was she _thinking_?” he spits.

“Poe,” Finn says behind him. “We’ve gotta go after her.”

“We’ll get the _Falcon_ fixed and get out to her as fast as we can,” Poe says.

It’s not ideal. Not even remotely. But what choice do they have? He winces as his arm throbs, needlessly reminding him that the blaster wound is still very much there. Well, hopefully leaving Hux behind to continue working under Chewie's supervision was the right choice. With any luck, he’s as good as he says he is and has made some progress in their absence.

“No,” Finn says insistently, “we’re gonna lose her.”

“Look, she left us,” Poe says. “She knew it wasn’t safe. And instead of waiting like she should have, Rey decided to go off on her own. This is all we can do now to get her back unless you feel like swimming.”

He hears Finn's frustrated sigh behind him. They’re both on edge, he knows. But they need to stay calm. They need two cool heads if they want to get Rey back safe.

“She’s not herself,” Finn barks. “You have _no_ idea what she’s fighting.”

Poe knows this isn’t about him. It’s not about him. He stops short and turns to face Finn.

“Oh, and you do?” he counters hotly.

Finn meets his gaze and holds it. He looks down on Poe from his point upon the hill, the three feet between them feeling as vast as the sea they’d just been looking at.

“Yeah,” Finn says stiffly. “I do.”

It’s not about him. It’s not about him. Poe knows this isn’t what’s important right now. What’s important is Rey's safety. Her state of mind. This isn’t the time for him to be hurt and angry about something that was never going to be in the first place.

He knows that. But it doesn’t stop him.

“Oh yeah? You know that?” Poe snaps, feeling heat rising under his collar.

“I do and so does Leia,” Finn says.

“Well, I’m not Leia!” Poe shouts. “I don’t have the same Force shit that you do. I can’t _feel_ what she’s going through. Whatever happened to fucking talking to each other, huh?”

“Yeah, well you don’t need _that Force shit_ to know she’s going through something,” Finn snaps right back. “Anyone with eyes could see that. Maybe you just don’t give as much of a damn as you think you do. So why don’t you go ahead and go back to tinkering with the _Falcon_ while the rest of us actually do something to try and get Rey back.”

Poe knows they’re on the precipice of something. He can and should pull back. But something in him wants to grab hold of Finn and send them both hurtling over the edge together.

“Fine,” Poe says, hating the defeated sound of his own voice. “You wanna go get yourself killed too? Fine. Go ahead. Be my fucking guest.”

Finn yanks the binoculars out of his hand. He says nothing as he turns away from Poe, climbing back up the hill towards Jannah. He doesn’t look back. Poe wishes he would, but finds he doesn’t know what he’d say if he did. Instead, he watches Finn go, feeling the cutting chill of the wind deepen with each step he takes away from him.

Poe clenches his fists, holding it even as his arm screams with pain and he feels the bandana around it dampening. It doesn’t even compare to his other hurts. But they do have the fact that they’re self-inflicted in common.

“Fuck,” Poe spits at the ground. “Poe Dameron, you stupid, _stupid_ …”

He sighs, relaxing his fists, feeling the blood rushing back to his fingers. There’s no time for this. He’s going to go back to the _Falcon_ , they’re going to get that old bird up in the air and they’re going to go after Rey. No one’s dying today. He’s getting Rey and Finn back and they’re getting through this shit, no matter what the three of them are to each other.

Poe is going to fix this. He has to.


	3. primus gradus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting! It means a lot to me that you're all enjoying it. I apologize for the update schedule. I recently lost my grandmother and found out my other grandmother has leukemia so I've been busy with family affairs and just kind of dealing with things. But writing helps! So I'm keeping at it.

Kylo stands upon the jutting cliff formed by the wreck of the Death Star, allowing himself to be pelted with rain and sea spray. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here. Or how long he’ll continue to stand here. Perhaps he’ll stand here forever, still and silent, like a statue to memorialize defeat.

The Empire’s. His own. Likely the First Order’s as well now.

He had watched Rey fly off in his Silencer, bound for an unknown destination. Shortly after, he had seen the _Falcon_ make its way over the ridge, collecting the two stranded figures left on the wreck before departing as well.

Departing with Hux on board.

Kylo truly has no idea as to the level of Hux’s commitment to the Resistance, but sensing him on the _Falcon_ had… stung. Though he can’t explain precisely why, it had felt like a kick when he was already down. Hux likely had little clue as to his presence unless he had laid eyes on him. And even if he had, would it have changed anything? Not likely.

Nothing has gone the way Snoke—or Palpatine—had promised it would. He doesn’t feel as though he has gained any strength despite having done everything which had been asked of him. He is more alone now than he has ever been and he is weaker for it. These things were supposed to dissolve his doubt not further manifest it. He had killed his father. He had essentially killed his uncle. And his mother…

“Hey, kid.”

Kylo swallows around the lump rising in his throat as he turns to meet the voice calling to him.

Han Solo stands before him, looking as welcomingly scruffy as he remembers. Kylo can practically smell the leather of his jacket and the cheap cologne he insisted on wearing even when he could afford better. But of course, none of this is real.

“I miss you, son,” Han says.

“Your son is dead,” Kylo says, echoing the words he’d said before and hearing the frailty of his own voice.

“No,” Han says, taking the few short steps it takes to reach him. He stares into Kylo’s eyes in such a way that Kylo finds himself unable to look away. “Kylo Ren is dead; my son is alive.”

The young man can’t stand to stare into the eyes of his father any longer. He drops his gaze to the ground beneath them and shakes his head. Perhaps Kylo Ren _is_ dead. But that doesn’t make him Ben Solo.

“You’re just a memory,” he says gruffly.

Han's eyebrows crinkle fondly, his lips tilting into a familiar lopsided smile. “ _Your_ memory. Come home.”

The young man shakes his head. “It’s too late. She’s…”

Gone.

His mother is gone.

To his surprise, Han huffs a short laugh. “You know, you always did have trouble looking past your emotions. Can’t say if that’s more me or your mother in you, but… Well, look again. Look closer. And I mean _really_ look, kid.”

He’s confused. Han is just a projection, after all. How could he know something different? The dark-haired man shivers in his soaking wet robes, but closes his eyes and does his best to concentrate. It’s been so long since he actively sought this bond that he isn’t sure he even knows where to look. He’d done everything in his power to sever it, and when that had failed, he’d reduced it to as thin a thread as he could before burying it as deeply as possible.

You would think he hadn’t gone through all that trouble with how quickly he finds it. It’s as thin as his connection to Hux, but lacks the same strength, lacks the bright luster. It’s weak and dim in his grasp—but it’s there.

 _Mother_.

When he opens his eyes once more, they’re clouded with a liquid that’s neither rain nor sea. Han smiles back at him.

“Ben,” he murmurs.

The young man swallows thickly. He is afraid.

“I know what I have to do,” he admits. “But I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”

Han reaches out towards him, pressing his hand to his son's cheek. It very nearly feels warm.

“You do,” Han says confidently. “It won’t be easy. There will be times when you look back on this and wish you hadn’t listened. There will be times when it’s hard and you hate it. There will be times when you feel alone. But you’re strong enough. You can do this, I promise you. You just have to take that first step.”

“Dad…”

There’s so much he wants to say. So many things he doesn’t have the right to say. Will never have the right to say. And the one thing he wants to say the most—

Han just looks to him with that lopsided smile. “I know.”

Gripping his lightsaber tightly in his hand, the young man whips around and hurls the weapon as far as he can. He watches as it tumbles end over end in a graceful arc before crashing into the surface of the raging sea, disappearing beneath the inky black waves and descending to the depths, where it will remain for all time.

For a moment, he expects his father to still be there when he turns around. The space before him is empty, as it had always been. Han had never been here. But part of him had been, in its own way. Which is why he knows he can’t back out now. He had taken the first step, he can take the next. And each one after that. He just has to try. He has to be strong. He _will_ be strong.

He can’t run from his past. He can’t erase it. Like a living tomb, he will carry the remains of Kylo Ren within him—all his crimes, his misdeeds, his mistakes, and his atrocities. He will carry them upon his shoulders and answer for them when they call his name.

Ben Solo descends the wreckage.

* * *

The wreck of the TIE Silencer burns bright on the rocky shores of Ahch-To. Rey hurls another log towards the already massive fire, telling herself that the tears in her eyes are merely from the smoke.

She had tried so hard. And for what?

She hadn’t been able to turn Ben away from the Dark Side. If anything, all she’d done was prove she was every bit as capable of being the same monster Kylo was. When she’d used the Force to throw Finn away from her, she hadn’t thought twice about it. It hadn't even occurred to her to consider that he could be hurt, that the sharp, jagged pieces of the wreck could even kill him. She had just wanted him away from her.

Rey had let her anger control her actions. The one thing she knew she couldn’t do as a Jedi and it had come to her as naturally as breathing.

_Because you’re a Palpatine._

It makes her gut churn in fury and despair. She had never asked for this. She had wanted to find her family, but not like this. Never like this.

With smoke and tears stinging her eyes and her chest heaving, she looks to the lightsaber in her grasp. This is it. This is the first step to making sure she never becomes that person she’d seen in her vision upon the wreckage. Taking a deep breath, she reels back and hurls the lightsaber with all her might. But just as it begins to reach the flames, it halts mid-air—caught in the grip of a ghostly blue hand.

From the inferno, the ghost of Luke Skywalker emerges, lightsaber in hand as he walks towards her.

“A Jedi's weapon should be treated with more respect,” he chastises her.

“Master Skywalker,” she murmurs numbly.

“What are you doing?” he asks, coming to stand before her. “There’s nothing for you here.”

Rey shakes her head, dropping to a crouch and sitting upon a large stone. She wraps her hands around her knees, feeling the chill of the planet despite the raging bonfire she’s made of the Silencer.

“I saw myself on the dark throne,” she tells Luke miserably. “I won’t let that happen. So I’m staying here—like you did.”

Luke gazes upon her with open sympathy. And something else: regret.

“I was wrong,” he admits with a sigh. “It was fear that kept me here. What is it you’re most afraid of?”

She lowers her eyes, hesitating despite having the answer to his question immediately. Fresh tears begin to gather in her eyes despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.

“Myself,” Rey says in a near-whisper.

“Because you’re a Palpatine.”

Her head whips up at his words. He knows. He _knew_. As if reading her thoughts, he nods his head.

“Leia knew as well,” Luke informs her.

“But…” she sputters. “But she never told me.”

The knowledge leaves her reeling as she stares down at the lightsaber in her lap, turning it over in her grasp as she thinks. Leia had known. She’d known and still… Luke moves to sit at her side as she’s struck by a sudden thought.

“She knew and she still trained me,” Rey says, wonder coating her words.

“Because she saw your _heart_. Your _spirit_ ,” Luke says. He looks to her with a fond smile on his face. “Some things are more important than blood.”

Rey frowns. She had wanted so desperately for her family to come back to her. She had wanted so desperately to know them, to be loved by them. Accepted by them. This isn’t what she had wanted at all.

“To confront fear is the destiny of a Jedi,” Luke goes on to say. “Just as it was my destiny to confront my father decades ago. It was something that filled me with immeasurable fear and unease. I was certain that I wouldn’t be able to; that I couldn’t.”

Rey shifts uneasily. “How did you learn to be at peace with it? When you found out he was… when you… when you _knew_.”

Luke hums thoughtfully, reaching up to stroke his beard.

“To be honest, I didn’t handle it… _well_ , at first,” Luke says slowly, tapping his chin. “It took a great deal of dedicated meditation, reflection, and introspection. But more than anything, it took _time_. And once I’d had that, I came to understand that who my father was didn’t define who _I_ was. Only I could do that.”

“But we can’t escape our blood entirely,” Rey muses.

“Yes, that’s true,” Luke replies. “There are certain things which come with being a Skywalker—or a Palpatine—which we cannot avoid. But the same can be said of any family. You think having your head in the stars isn’t a thoroughly Dameron trait?”

Rey fights a smile despite herself. Being reminded of Poe, one of the people who _does_ care for her, puts her more at ease. She thinks to the little flicker of the Force as Finn had tried to reach out to her and it warms her in a way the fire before them can’t. She thinks of Rose. And Chewie. BB-8, 3PO, and R2. Leia…

“Family isn’t always a matter of blood either,” Luke says. “Sometimes family is something we make for ourselves rather than something we’re born into.”

“Yes,” Rey says softly, toying with the lightsaber in her hands. “I can see that now.”

Luke is watching her carefully, she knows. She wonders if he realizes how much she needed this; needed him, specifically. He’s just about the only one who can really, truly understand this. And knowing he had been able to overcome his fears, to grow into the strong Jedi Master she had come to admire, gives her hope.

“Facing your fear—facing Palpatine—is your destiny,” Luke says seriously. “If you don’t, it will be the end of the Jedi and the war will be lost.”

Rey nods solemnly along with him as he rises from his seat and stares out across the island. He seems to be debating something with himself, but Rey doesn’t try to pry, just rises along with him.

“Follow me,” Luke says, turning to look at her. “There’s something Leia would want you to have.”

The statement having plucked at her natural curiosity, Rey follows without question and for a time, the mystery of what Like is leading her to places her worries at the back of her mind. Something Leia would want her to have. Something Leia can no longer give to Rey herself.

“In here,” Luke instructs, ducking into a small stone grotto.

Rey follows suit, noting the way the stone is shaped around her. This is not a natural cave, but rather something which had been built by someone’s hands. It’s small and seemingly empty, but the feeling of the space is pure, sacred.

“Go ahead and pull these blocks out and reach inside the hollow there,” Luke says, standing back to allow her to do so.

Crouching down, Rey carefully begins to wedge the stone blocks out of the wall, fearful the wrong move will set off a collapse and bury her beneath it. But as she pulls them away, she finds that they don’t seem to affect the surrounding blocks. It seems this space had been hollowed out and fortified intentionally. Once she’s removed enough blocks, Rey reaches inside the hole and gropes blindly for whatever it is she’s supposed to find.

In mere seconds, her fingers brush against some sort of cloth. It’s wrapped around something and tied off with a piece of string. Pulling the small bundle out, Rey rests it in her lap and allows herself only a moment to study it before she begins unwrapping it. Peeling back the layers of cloth, she finds a sturdy metallic hilt waiting for her.

“Leia’s saber,” Rey says, her voice soft with awe.

She holds it reverently in her hands as though her mere touch could destroy it. Luke draws closer, humming appreciatively at the sight of it.

“It was the last night of her training,” Luke murmurs pensively. “Leia had told me that she sensed the death of her son at the end of her Jedi path. She surrendered her saber to me and said that one day it would be picked up by another. One who would finish her journey.”

The Jedi Master looks to the saber that Rey now cradles in her hands. He stares at it for some moments in silence and Rey dares not interrupt his thoughts. At last, Luke sighs softly and raises his eyes to meet hers.

“You should bring it to her,” he advises.

The meaning of his words leaves her feeling hollow with grief, but she nods her head. She’ll respect his wishes. “You want it buried with her.”

To her surprise, Luke barks a laugh. “Well, perhaps she might like that when the day comes, but for now I think she might just be a little offended at the idea of you putting her in a hole while she’s still kicking.”

The confusion must show on Rey’s face because Luke shakes his head with a smile and crouches beside her.

“Leia’s not dead, Rey,” he tells her. “It was a close call and right now her presence in the Force is weak, but she had help. It was because of that help that she was able to succeed in her task of reaching Ben without expending all of her life force.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Rey says numbly. She clutches her chest, her fingers fisted in the clothing over the place where her heart beats. “I _felt_ it. I felt her presence vanish from the Force.”

“For a moment, yes,” Luke acknowledges. “But you were too overcome with emotion to sense that it had been restored. You should be able to do so now if you concentrate. Go on, give it a try.”

Rey begs her own heart to stop beating so wildly. Her thoughts are all over the place, scattered in so many directions like leaves upon the wind. She has so many questions. But she won’t get them like this. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she closes her eyes and breathes out in a slow exhale. She repeats the process. Again. Again.

Calmness finds her. She slips into it like a cool, unseen pool of water, letting it swallow her whole. Reaching out, she searches for her connection with Leia. It’s not as easy to find as it once had been. Just as Rey is beginning to wonder if Luke is mistaken, she feels something brush against her hand. Rey closes her hand around the sensation of a hand holding hers.

Leia.

Leia is with her. So faint but somehow such a strong presence all the same. Rey tries to communicate her feelings across their connection. She’s coming back. She’s coming back to them so they can all figure this out together. She’s coming back to her family.

Calmness. Acceptance. That is what greets her. Like a mother hushing her crying child.

When Rey opens her eyes, it’s to the sight of Luke smiling at her. Hurriedly she begins to wipe at her eyes, which still overflow with tears.

“It’s alright to cry,” Luke assures her. “I think you’ve more than earned it.”

Without thinking, Rey flings herself towards him, only at the last moment remembering he’s just a ghost. Which is why it’s all the more surprising when her arms close around a solid mass; one which returns her embrace. Her tears begin to flow anew as she sobs quietly into Luke's shoulder, feeling the weight of everything fully descending upon her. A hand strokes her back encouragingly as she cries until she’s sure she must not have a drop of moisture left in her body.

Sniffling quietly, she pulls away from Luke and scrubs at her eyes, removing any lingering tears. She feels… lighter. Better for having gotten all of that out of her system. Luke watches her patiently, looking entirely unbothered by her display.

“How were you able to—?”

“A Force ghost can make themself corporeal by borrowing a bit of Force energy from a living being,” Luke explains. His lips quirk into a smile. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Rey laughs, still sniffling absently. “No, I don’t mind. Not at all.”

Luke nods to himself as though that settles the matter. He gestures towards the small hole in the wall where Rey had retrieved Leia’s saber.

“There’s just one more thing I need you to retrieve,” he says. “It belonged to an old pupil of mine.”

Curiosity once again piqued, Rey leans forward and reaches into the hollow. She finds she has to reach back much further than before and it’s only once her arm is completely inside and her cheek pressed against the wall as she strains to find something that she does. There is another bundle. She manages to grab ahold of the corner and drags it towards her and out into the open.

Repeating her earlier process, she unwraps the bundle until she finds herself staring at the hilt of yet another saber. But when she picks it up, this one feels… different. Odd. Strange in a way she can’t quite place.

“They, too, surrendered their saber to me,” Luke recounts. He clucks his tongue and strokes his bearded chin. “Well, to be more precise they threw it at me. But I sense they will need it once more.”

Rey frowns. “I thought all your students had been killed.”

_By Ben._

She swallows thickly at the words which leap to her mind as if having a life of their own. It’s not something she can ever forget. It’s not something that can be erased or undone.

“This one left my tutelage prior to that incident,” Luke explains. “We had a… disagreement of sorts. It ended poorly and they chose to forsake the Jedi path. Although it pained me greatly at the time, in hindsight I can be glad that it spared them from the same fate as their peers.”

“And you think I’ll cross paths with them?” Rey asks, trying not to sound too suspicious.

“I said Leia had help, didn’t I?” Luke says with a grin.

“…they’re with her,” Rey realizes. “Right now.”

“You should go now,” Luke tells her. “The sooner you reach them the better.”

Rey is about to agree when she remembers how she had gotten here. “But I can’t. The TIE is destroyed and I have no way of signaling anyone.”

Luke shakes his head. “You have everything you need.”

* * *

Finn descends the _Falcon’s_ loading ramp to the typical chaos of the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss. But he doesn’t feel the familiar sense of _home_ that he typically does when returning from a mission. Poe steps around him and begins to lead them through the base, clearly intending to report in with Leia.

They hadn’t spoken for the length of their journey from Kef Bir. Perhaps it’s for the best at the moment. They do need to talk, just… maybe a little space to cool off will make that task a little easier.

While most of the Resistance members simply flow around them, intent on their work, a few heads turn their way. Hux walks as straight-backed as he can with Chewie prodding him along, but the tense set of his jaw tells Finn he’s more anxious than he’s letting on. It’s hard to miss him; his red hair and dark uniform stick out like a sore thumb.

“Commander Dameron!”

Finn finds himself spared from having to defend the former general from any Resistance members looking to get their punches in when he hears Commander D'Acy's call. The slight woman hurries towards them, her blue eyes heavy in a way Finn hasn’t seen before.

“D'Acy! Good timing,” Poe says, flagging down a passing pair of Resistance members. “I need you to escort General Hux here to a holding cell. And make sure we get a meddroid to take a look at his leg.”

“General Organa is—wait, wait, you’ve captured General Hux?” D'Acy sputters, cutting herself off, her eyes going comically round.

“Actually, uh… he’s our spy,” Poe says, shrugging one shoulder apologetically. “Sorry to drop this on you.”

D'Acy stares at Poe with a gobsmacked expression, seemingly unable to come up with anything to say in response. Finn watches the commander turn her gaze to Hux, who refuses to bend under scrutiny, looking as imperious as ever even with the limp.

“I… yes, of course,” D’Acy says at last. “But before that, we need to talk about General Organa. Poe, she’s named you as Acting General.”

Finn feels as surprised as Poe looks.

“Acting General? Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Poe says holding his hands out in front of him. “Where’s Leia?”

D’Acy swallows thickly, her eyes looking too wet to Finn. Beside him, Poe takes a step forward, his tone desperate. Finn can feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves. He knows what Leia means to Poe, what she means to all of them.

“Where is she, Larma? Tell me where she is.”

“She’s in the medbay,” D'Acy says at last. “It was close. She did something—or tried to do something—through the Force. She had said it would take every bit of energy she had left.”

“But it didn’t,” Finn says, trying to clarify.

D'Acy shakes her head, golden curls swaying with the action. “It would have. But Commander Tak has returned from the Uvena system and—”

“Tak!” Poe nearly shouts. He breathes out in a relieved laugh. “Of course! Of course they would be here to figure it out.”

“Yes, they arrived just today,” D’Acy says, looking pleased, if still a bit concerned. “But please understand General Organa is in a very fragile state. We’re hoping Commander Tak’s intervention will be enough, but it’s still too soon to say.”

“Right,” Poe says, nodding distractedly. “Right. And in the meantime, she really wants me—”

“To operate Acting General, yes,” D’Acy says with a nod. “She was very explicit.”

Finn turns to look at Poe, trying to interpret the storm of emotions passing over his face. He knows Poe doesn’t feel ready. Would any of them? Leia leaves a pair of shoes that aren’t easy to fill. And then there’s the fact that she hasn’t truly left them—not just yet. But from the way D’Acy had put it, the matter of Leia’s survival is… delicate.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” D’Acy says, patting each of them on the arm affectionately. “Right. Now, then, General Hux if you’ll just follow me…”

Hux has been eerily silent throughout this exchange and seems to remain so even as he’s lead away. It may just be Finn's eyes playing tricks on him, but he swears there’s a glimmer of fear in the man's eyes that hadn’t been there moments ago. Chewie’s growl brings him out of his thoughts and Finn nods in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right, Chewie,” he says. “Let’s go see her.”

He’s surprised when Poe grabs him by the arm and halts his progress.

“Uh, Chewie, 3PO, BB-8... why don’t you go on ahead,” Poe says. He meets Finn’s eyes. “Can I talk to you for a minute first? In private?”

Finn would like to tell him it can wait, but if Poe’s putting it before seeing Leia, then Finn knows it probably can’t. Waving the others on, he reluctantly allows himself to be steered to a private alcove. It’s a small space between bunkers, forcing the two of them to stand in close proximity.

It doesn’t escape his notice that Poe hasn’t let go of his arm. But he’s beginning to notice that Poe’s grip is growing tighter. He can hear the pilot’s breathing, the way it shakes as he exhales.

“I’m sorry,” Poe blurts.

Finn frowns curiously as Poe looks up to meet his gaze.

“For everything on Kef Bir,” Poe elaborates. “For not getting what’s going on with Rey…”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one you need to apologize to for that,” Finn tells him.

He knows right away that it was the wrong thing to say. The smoldering coals left from their fight on Endor's moon are prodded back to a dull flame as Poe pulls as far back from him as the cramped space will allow.

“I _know_ th—”

Poe stops himself from saying anything else. Finn watches him scrub his hands over his face with an aggravated groan before pulling in a deep breath. He holds his hands before him, staring at the empty space between them.

“I know that,” Poe says, calmer now. “I know that and I fully intend to once we find her and bring her home. But I need…”

He balls his hands into fists. It’s rare that Poe’s at a loss for words and Finn finds his heart beating faster than it ought. Poe unclenches his fists and makes an abortive movement, like he had wanted to reach out and touch Finn, but had thought better.

“I can’t do this alone. I _need_ you,” Poe says, looking him in the eye once more. “In command with me and…”

Finn finds his brain doesn’t seem to want to focus on formulating a response. Instead, it focuses on the words Poe had said. I need you. I need you. I _need_ you.

“I’m not going to get in the way of you and Rey,” Poe says. “I just need you both here. With me. In whatever way I can get you.”

“Me and Rey?” Finn echoes curiously.

“Yeah,” Poe says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I could see straight away that you two had something special. I mean _really_ special. And I’m not trying to mess that up for you, I just want the three of us to still have what we’ve had.”

“You think Rey and I are…” Finn murmurs thoughtfully. “Poe, look, it’s not like that. Not really. I mean… Yeah, there’s some kind of connection we have, but that doesn’t mean you’re not… I can’t say anything for Rey, but for _me_ you’re…”

He hadn’t expected to be having this conversation here. Right now. He knew they’d have to have it eventually, but “eventually” had always seemed so hard off in the distance. Now it’s right here and staring him in the face.

So… Fuck it.

Finn lurches forward in the cramped space and presses his lips to Poe's, holding the pilot’s face in his hands. There’s a moment of stunned inaction from Poe, but never let it be said that he doesn’t know how to roll with the punches.

Poe grabs the lapels of Finn’s jacket and hauls him closer. The sensation of their bodies pressed so close together lights up all the nerves in Finn’s body with a feeling he can’t begin to describe. It’s elation. Euphoria. Bliss. He runs his fingers through the pilot’s dark curls, finding them just as soft as he’d imagined they would be. The slightest tug draws a hungry groan from Poe's lips and Finn finds his mind wandering to what other sounds he can pry from them.

And then Poe pulls back.

“Wait, wait,” he says hurriedly.

He’s breathing heavily, his eyes wide as he looks back at Finn with an expression of wonder.

“We should… We should talk more,” Poe says. “About all of this.”

For a moment, Finn thinks to argue that he would much rather go back to what they were just doing. But he knows Poe has a point. They need to talk. Because this isn’t as simple as the two of them feeling the same way about each other. Because Poe had been right. Because Finn feels the same way about Rey that he does about Poe.

“Don’t think that I don’t want this,” Poe tells him. He tightens his grip on Finn’s jacket briefly before drawing his hands away. “I just want what’s best for you and for her. And I don’t think that’s me.”

“Poe. Come on,” Finn says, shaking his head.

“No, I mean it,” Poe says seriously. “Finn, I’m almost ten years older than you. And Rey? She’s… She’s _amazing_. I’ve never met anyone like her. You would be crazy not to choose her.”

“I don’t even know how Rey feels about me. If it’s the same way that I feel about her,” Finn says. “And if I don’t know that, how do I know that I _have_ to choose?”

“Well, I mean,” Poe says with a huff of laughter. “I can’t see the alternative.”

“You already said it: why can’t the three of us still have what we’ve had?” Finn says, squeezing the pilot’s shoulders. “Why can’t we all do this together?”

“Did you miss the part where I pointed out how I’m too old and not good enough for you?” Poe asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I chose to ignore it and forgive you for a moment of stupidity,” Finn says giving him a knowing look. “I need you, too. I need both of you. Maybe that’s selfish but—”

“No, no, hey,” Poe says soothingly. He sighs, his hands reaching up to frame Finn’s ribcage. “You’re not selfish. Or if you are, then I am, too. Because yeah, I admit it: I need you both.”

“Good,” Finn says. “Don’t try to back out of this.”

Poe huffs a laugh and reaches up, cupping the back of Finn’s neck and guiding him down until their foreheads rest together. Finn allows himself a soft sigh. If they could just stay like this. If there wasn’t a war to be won and a galaxy to save and Rey were here with them, then maybe they could just stay like this.

But there _is_ a war.

There _is_ a galaxy to save

And Rey is _not_ with them.

They need to fix those things first. And that starts with letting each other go, just for now.

“Ready to go see Leia, Acting General Finn?” Poe asks as he leans back on his heels.

“Ready, Acting General Dameron,” Finn says.

Together, they step out of the narrow alley and back into the bustling energy of the base, ready to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Leia's not dying. Because I don't want her to lmao. 
> 
> Also, a few things I wanted to address: While I _am_ going with Palpatine being alive/Rey being a Palpatine, those facts are going to exist very differently in the overall plot of this fic than they did in _The Rise of Skywalker_. Next, switching from Kylo Ren to Ben Solo in this chapter. No, it doesn't mean he's suddenly good and everyone will accept him. It's basically just symbolic of his choice to leave behind the things that Kylo Ren symbolizes. And lastly, Commander Tak; they're a character of my own creation who I hope will serve as a suitable foil for some canon characters and who I hope you will enjoy as much as I do. :D


	4. homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As players continue to gather, Poe and Finn work together to make sure the Resistance can handle the strain.

To say that Poe is feeling out of sorts would be an understatement. Walking with Finn at his side towards the medical wing, he hurriedly tries to compartmentalize the emotions of the past twenty minutes. Easier said than done.

He’d been named Acting General. Commander Tak had returned to the Resistance. Leia had once again escaped death by the skin of her teeth. Finn had _kissed him_. Finn wants the same things he wants. Finn wants it to be the three of them, together, regardless of how old Poe thinks he is or how much he—

Poe has to stop himself from diving any deeper into that subject. He has things he needs to prioritize right now. He has to get his head out of the stars and his feet firmly on the ground. Leia is counting on him. They’re all counting on him to be the leader Leia believes him to be.

As they approach the door to Leia’s room, they’re met by an imposing figure. Outfitted in mismatched armor and carrying a modified blaster rifle, they stand sentry in front of the door. Their face is masked by a Mandalorian helmet, leaving their identity a mystery. Poe’s sure he’s never seen them before but then again, it seems like the Resistance has twenty new faces for him to get used to every time he returns from a mission.

Just as he’s about to say something, the figure nods their head at him silently and steps aside to allow them entry. Well, whoever they are, their actions are quick and efficient—military-like, in his opinion. It’s only as he begins to walk through the door that he notices Finn had stopped.

The ex-stormtrooper stares at the silent guardian, who faces straight ahead and does not return his gaze. Poe turns back, placing a hand at Finn’s elbow.

“Hey, you okay?” Poe asks softly.

Finn stares a few moments longer before turning his attention to Poe. He nods with a slight frown, rubbing his right temple. “Yeah, I just thought I felt…”

“Rey?” Poe inquires hopefully.

“No. I just felt uneasy all of a sudden. It’s nothing,” Finn assures him.

“You sure?” Poe presses.

Finn shrugs. “Not really. But I can’t do anything about it either way.”

“Right,” Poe murmurs.

Finn's apparent Force sensitivity is unhoned, untrained. Right now, it’s just feelings here and there, by his own admission. But maybe they won’t have to wait too long to work on that. Poe nods his head towards the curtain at the far end of the room and Finn follows, the soft hiss of the closing door following them.

Unsure of what he’ll find, Poe is admittedly hesitant to part the privacy curtain. But he never got anything done by fluffing about, so without giving himself time to consider whether he’s ready, he pulls the curtain aside.

Leia appears to be sleeping peacefully. Although the white of the medical wing typically lends an ethereal air to her already commanding presence, Poe finds that it does less so with the pallor of her skin. Whatever task she had so needed to accomplish, it had clearly meant to be fueled by what was left of her life. Which just makes him wonder: is this just a stopgap? If she recovers, how much time does she even have left?

He doesn’t like considering it. He’d lost his mother when he was eight. His father when he was seventeen. Leia has been like a third parent to him. Maybe she had just been looking for a void to fill when she had lost Ben, but even if that were the case, it wouldn’t have mattered to him. It didn’t change the fact that her praise had always made him feel like he could conquer galaxies, like he could take on a First Order dreadnought by himself. He wants to make her proud. He wants to be the kind of leader that she has been. He wants her to see how much her wisdom, her guidance, has meant to him.

A loud snore draws his attention.

Propped up against the side of Leia’s bed is the just the Shistavanen troublemaker Poe had been dying to see. It’s been well over a year since Poe has seen them, but Tak appears to be much the same as ever. Same sandy fur. Same wild crimson mane. Same jagged scar across their snout. And same awful snoring. He hadn’t missed that particular aspect, having shared a room with them for a few years.

Poe winks at Finn and drops to a crouch, unable to help the grin on his face as he reaches out and tugs on the Shistavanen's pointed ears. They wake with an undignified snort, reflexively shoving Poe away and grumbling irritably. Even asleep they’re strong enough to knock him flat on his ass.

“Aw, come on, you gonna sleep all day?” Poe chuckles.

Tak blinks themself awake, ears pricking up at attention as they notice him. The large canine humanoid offers him a toothy grin as they jump to their feet, extending a clawed hand to help him up.

“Poe Dameron, as I live and breathe,” they say with a bark of laughter.

Poe wheezes as they proceed to lift him in a hug that squeezes most of the air out of his lungs. He returns the embrace, patting them on the back enthusiastically.

“Tak, buddy, it’s good to see you, too,” he says as they relent and return him to ground level, allowing him to breathe again. He gestures to Finn at his side. “This is—”

“Commander Finn. Yes, I’ve been looking forward to the day I would meet you,” Tak says, extending their hand to Finn, which he readily takes. “General Organa has had much to say about you this past year.”

“She did?” Finn blurts. Poe swears he’s blushing. “I mean… She did. Of course. Uh, good to meet you, Tak…?”

“Just 'Tak,'” the Shistavanen says with a smile. “We would have met sooner but I’m afraid I’ve been playing diplomat, scouting out potential allies.”

“Speaking of: That big brute by the door one of yours?” Poe asks.

Tak dips their head in a nod, appearing quite pleased. “Yes, Cap has been traveling with me and aiding my efforts for the past year.”

“Cap?” Finn echoes curiously.

Poe can tell he’s fishing for more. He may have waved off his earlier uneasiness, but it’s plain as day that no matter how much he had trivialized it, it’s hardly nothing. Tak tilts their head to the side inquisitively.

“Yes,” they say simply. “She is a private person. That is the name she has chosen to share here.”

Finn doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but Poe decides to nip it in the bud it for the time being. There are more pressing matters at hand. He moves closer to Leia’s bedside and reaches down to squeeze one of her hands. Her skin feels cool against his and she remains as still as ever. He wonders if she knows they’re with her. If she can sense then, maybe. He looks to Tak.

“So, can you tell us what happened here?” he asks.

Tak folds their arms over their chest. “Leia wished to make a final attempt to reach her son. Doing so drained her of her remaining life force, and so I gave her some of mine.”

“Like Force healing?” Finn asks, clearly remembering Rey's display down in the tunnels.

“Something like that, yes,” Tak agrees. “By supplying her with some of my energy, she can begin to regain her own. So long as it takes.”

“You’re saying this might not work,” Poe interprets.

“Correct. There is no guarantee she will be strong enough to return from where she is,” Tak says. But when their face brightens considerably, Poe feels some of his worries ebbing away. “However, Leia is a powerful Force user and more importantly, a fighter. She has responded well so far.”

Poe exhales audibly. If Tak is hopeful then that’s a good sign. The Shistavanen has a habit of typically being rather blunt and so if they had any doubts, nothing would be holding them back from voicing them here.

“I didn’t know the Resistance had any other Force users,” Finn says. “You’re not a Jedi, though… are you?”

“I was, once,” Tak admits. “But no, I gave that up many years ago.”

That’s an oversimplification of events if Poe’s ever heard one, but then, it’s not his story to tell. Now isn’t the time to be getting into all that anyway. There will be time later for them to get better acquainted. Tak frowns suddenly, the noticeable change in their demeanor catching his attention. At first, Poe thinks it’s simply the question that’s bothered them. But then he sees their nose twitching furiously as they sniff the air. Finn watches them with some level of bemusement, clearly not having spent much time around their species.

“You’ve brought someone here,” Tak declares in an oddly wooden tone.

“Yeah,” Poe says slowly, shooting Finn a sidelong glance. “We did.”

“Armitage Hux,” Tak says.

There’s a sudden energy in the room that Poe can’t describe. He watches the Shistavanen’s eyes quite literally light up. It was a trait of the species which Poe was familiar with. The most pureblooded of their species had constantly glowing red or gold eyes, but members of some other subspecies might not possess this trait at all. In Tak’s humanoid blue eyes, Poe had only ever seen the faint red glow of their pupils when their emotions ran high or they allowed instinct to take over. In this case, Poe can’t be sure which it is.

Frankly, this is the part he’d been afraid of. It was an inevitability, of course, he just had hoped there would have been a little more time for them to talk things out. A little more time for the dust to settle. He hasn’t even had time to warn poor Finn yet.

“You can sense him?” Finn asks.

“No, I can smell him,” Tak says distractedly.

“Tak, let’s just take it easy,” Poe says, holding his hands up as he steps between them and the door. He isn’t sure how this is going to go down, but he’s seen what the Shistavanen is capable of when you get between them and what they want. “Now isn’t a good time for this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tak asks, their eyes narrowing.

“Am I missing something here?” Finn says under his breath, leaning towards Poe.

Tak opens their mouth to speak at precisely the same moment as Poe, but both find themselves silenced. The sound of a sudden commotion and raised voices drifts towards them even through the thick medbay door, pushing their brewing argument aside. Poe finds the Shistavanen meeting his gaze and knows they’re in agreement. This conversation will have to wait but it doesn’t mean they’re done. Not by a long shot.

“Let’s go check this out,” Poe says.

“As you wish, Acting General Dameron,” Tak says.

Poe shoots them a look. They can talk about that bit of cheek later, too.

* * *

Hux has had better days, but he’s certainly had worse ones, too. Oh, he’s had worse alright. Even now, sitting in a holding cell at the mercy of the Resistance, his army at the command of a Sith madman, his life’s work up in flames, everything he’s ever known gone…

All of this and it’s still not the lowest of his lows for one simple reason: he’s free of Kylo Ren.

It’s true Hux doesn’t know precisely what will happen to him now but there is _possibility_ before him. He can do a lot with mere possibility. He always has. And now that he’s alone and somewhere relatively quiet, he has time to think.

…although it seems now that he finally has the time, he lacks the faculties for proper planning.

He doesn’t recall when it was that he last slept, though this is nothing unusual. Oftentimes his work would carry him from one day into the next, shifts on the bridge being strung together by nights spent poring over his datapad. He’d always been a light sleeper and when an idea struck him, he found it difficult to let it go without taking some sort of action towards it. The time following the destruction of Starkiller Base had been particularly difficult. Even by his own standards, he knew he’d been pushing things.

Ironically, Ren's decision to smash him into a console during the battle at Crait had allowed him the first bit of solid rest he’d had in months. With an error of Starkiller's magnitude hanging over his head, Hux had worked feverishly to finish the development of the hyperspace tracker. To great success, of course, but it didn’t mean it was without cost. He’d dropped close to twenty pounds after subsisting on caf more often than he should have and contributing to that with stims which robbed him of any appetite he might have otherwise had.

It wasn’t something he was about to thank Ren for, but the brief stay in medical and the allocation of a portion of his duties to other parties had been… well, somewhat necessary. Although he could have done without the concussion and broken bones, frankly. Besides which, his medical leave had given him time to—not mourn, he doesn’t mourn, but— _process_ Phasma’s death. She had been the closest thing he could call to having a friend, as someone who does not have friends. She had been fearless, powerful, and above all, loyal.

Few people knew exactly what his relationship with his father had been like. That Brendol Hux was a cruel man was a secret to no one, but few bothered to consider how that might have translated to his child-rearing capabilities. Or perhaps they simply assumed he wouldn’t possibly be that vicious with his own child. Phasma had been one of a select few who knew that Brendol was infinitely crueler behind closed doors. Hux can’t say what her precise reasoning was—they never discussed that in any great detail—but she had chosen to turn her back on her savior Brendol in favor of his son. The “mysterious” circumstances under which the elder Hux had died were always flowing in and out of the rumor mill around him, but he paid it no mind.

Phasma had aided him in breaking free from his father’s grasp once and for all. From that point forward, she had been at his side. Through his greatest achievements and his lowest lows. And then she’d been gone. Killed by a traitor and his rebel scum friend. Not remotely near the glorious end she deserved.

No, he did not mourn. But he remembered. Phasma had been worth that much.

Hux jerks awake with a start. He’d been drifting. The white of the holding cell seems overly bright in the synthetic light and he finds himself squinting, already missing the dark interior of the First Order’s ships. Blinking rapidly, he scrubs at his face in an attempt to wake himself up. He can’t afford to let his guard down by being foolish enough to sleep.

No rest for the wicked.

* * *

Finn isn’t sure what he’d expected to find when they emerged from medbay, but Kylo Ren on his knees with dozens of blasters aimed at him was certainly _not_ it. He knows he's gaping, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight. The dark-haired Ren seems to be without his cloak and armor, devoid of his saber, his expression neutral as he kneels with his hands behind his head. On the ground before him lies his helmet, resting in the dirt like an offering.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Poe breathes beside him.

Finn nods dumbly in agreement. What the fuck, indeed. He pries his eyes away from the sight for a moment, his attention caught by the TIE fighter in the distance. It’s an older model. Imperial. He figures Ren must have found it somewhere in the depths of the Death Star and managed to get it working long enough to pilot it here. But as for why he’d chosen to do so…

“Alright, everyone, let’s just keep it calm,” Poe says as he begins wading through the crowd. “No sudden movements.”

There are anxious, confused murmurs as Poe moves forward, Finn and Tak coming up behind him. Finn keeps his hand on his blaster but as he glances beside him, he sees that Tak doesn’t seem to bother. The Shistavanen nods when Poe glances back at them and Finn understands why. They don’t _need_ a blaster.

The three of them reach the clearing in the center of the crowd, emerging into the wide berth of space everyone had put between themselves and the Jedi Killer. Ren keeps his gaze forward, focused on a point in the dirt. Poe loops his thumbs in his belt and stares down at him. The expression on the pilot’s face seems thoughtful, to Finn. With a little of something else mixed in. An emotion that he can’t quite place. Regret? Pity? Satisfaction?

“Kylo Ren,” Poe says.

“Poe Dameron,” Ren acknowledges.

“So,” Poe says conversationally. “You figured Han and Luke weren’t enough, you’d just go ahead and kill your mother, too. Why not take out the whole bloodline, huh?”

There’s a ripple of unease among those gathered, whispers steadily rising in volume. After the Battle of Crait, Ren's true identity had come out. Thankfully it hadn’t torn what was left of the Resistance apart like Leia had feared it might. But no one was exactly in a hurry to bring it up, either.

Finn watches Ren carefully for the slightest hint of anger. He waits for the inevitable lashing out, the formidable temper that he had been known for.

It never comes.

Instead, Ren merely closes his eyes, his head tipping marginally forward. Defeated, that’s how he looks to Finn. _Sad_. It makes Finn’s gut churn until he can nearly taste bile at the back of his throat. How _dare_ he come to them like this now. After everything he’d done. After all the lives he’d ruined, the lives he’d _taken_ , the families he’d broken, the planets he’d destroyed. This pathetic wretch offering himself to them in Kylo Ren’s place is an insult. Finn hates it. He finds himself wishing for the man's vile temper instead.

“I’ll admit, I hadn’t thought Leia’s plan would work,” Tak says, clicking their tongue. “But here you are.”

Ren is silent for a moment. “…you helped her.”

Tak cants their head to the side, as though trying to get a better look at him. “Not really. Leia knew what she was doing. I was just a backup generator, you could say.”

“Lord Ren.”

Finn feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He knows that voice, he just never expected to hear it again outside of his nightmares. He whips around with his blaster drawn. Captain Phasma stands mere feet away from him, Mandalorian helmet tucked under one arm, her gaze impassive. An ugly patch of scar tissue covers the area of her left eye—the last bit of her he had ever seen.

He doesn’t bother with hesitating. He pulls the trigger.

But as he’d seen Ren do before, the shot hangs static in midair, paused in its trajectory towards the former stormtrooper captain. Except this time, it isn’t Ren who’s responsible. Tak stands with their hand outstretched, their expression seeming mildly put off by current affairs.

“Phasma, this isn’t the best time,” they say. “I really wish you had exercised a little more patience.”

“My apologies, commander,” Phasma replies, dipping her head in a slight nod. “But I feared the situation was soon to get out of hand.”

Tak shakes their head, looking to Finn and Poe with a vaguely apologetic expression. “Sorry about this. I know you’ll want an explanation, and I’ll give you one when we have a moment, but I’m going to have to ask that you refrain from firing on her or Ben.”

The Shistavanen flicks their wrist up, sending the blaster shot harmlessly into the sky and away from all those gathered. Finn feels like his tongue is too large for his mouth. He feels hot and cold at once, his shirt damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. There’s a pounding in his head that he can’t seem to rid himself of, making his temples ache and setting his ears ringing.

“What the _fuck_?” he spits, echoing Poe’s earlier sentiment. He aims his blaster at Tak instead, feeling doubt creeping deeper towards his core as the seconds tick past. “Whose side are you on?”

“Finn, hey, take it easy,” Poe says, his tone carefully controlled. “They’re on our side, I promise you. Even if they have a lot of explaining to do.”

Finn hears the edge to the pilot’s words—Poe isn’t happy about this either.

“I understand this all seems very suspect,” Tak says evenly, their hands raised peacefully. Finn knows they could stop anything he fires at them with the Force. He knows they don’t have anything to feel threatened by, that they’re really just humoring him right now. The Shistavanen huffs a soft, self-conscious laugh. “But I would like it if we could handle this diplomatically. I believe Phasma and Ben will agree to whatever terms you name as far as keeping them securely contained. I’m afraid I’m a bit tired out from my earlier exercise with Leia and so I would prefer it if you wouldn’t try to shoot me.”

Finn clenches his jaw. “…did Leia know about Phasma?”

“Yes,” Tak replies. “She trusted my judgment.”

Somehow that just makes him feel that much worse. He doesn’t know this person. But he _does_ know Phasma and he just can’t see Leia agreeing with something like this.

“Finn, lower the blaster,” Poe says.

“Why should I?” Finn asks, his sights still set on the commander in front of him.

“Because not so long ago you asked me to trust you when you made a decision that I wasn’t sure about,” Poe says. “Now I’m asking _you_ to trust _me_.”

Of course, Poe would have to use his own words against him. It’s just that it’s not Poe that Finn doesn’t trust. But as he looks at the Resistance members gathered around them, eyeing them apprehensively, Finn knows he’s going to have to cede the point. They can’t afford to have Poe's command questioned—not now, not at such a vulnerable moment.

As much as he hates it, he lowers his blaster and holsters it, nodding at Poe. The pilot smiles at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder fondly. He just has to trust Poe. He can do that. He keeps himself silent as Poe turns to address the crowd.

“Now, I know this is all a bit messy, but I promise you that we're going to straighten it out. There aren’t going to be any secrets,” Poe says, his voice carrying so that all those gathered can hear. “Whatever we know, you will know, and we’ll work on using that knowledge to win this thing together. If you have concerns, I want to hear them. But give me a little time to sort through all of this first. I need all of you to trust me to do that. Does everyone think they can do that?”

There’s a slow, but steadily rising sound of agreement from those gathered and Finn feels himself relax marginally. They trust Poe. They trust him to do what’s right by all of them. Right now, they need that trust more than anything. Poe motions towards D’Acy, who quickly separates herself from the crowd.

“For now, I think it’s best if we keep these two in their own holding cells until we can figure out what we’re going to do with them long-term,” Poe says.

Finn can’t even begin to wonder what the long-term solution to all of this will be. Phasma has been out and roaming free for some time, it seems, and if Tak is to be believed then Leia not only knew of this but had allowed it. Then there’s Ren. He doesn’t think he has to worry about Poe going easy in him, but… As much as he respects Leia, he wonders what her orders will be. She had nearly given her life to make one last effort to bring her son home. But surely she can’t just look past everything he’s done.

“I agree. I’ll see to it immediately, general,” D’Acy says smartly. She calls to a handful of security personnel from the crowd. “Danbre, Krepp, Litu, Aragym. Let’s escort these two to their holding cells.”

Finn hangs back, watching as Poe encourages the crowd to disperse and go about their duties. Ren keeps his head down as he’s marched off alongside Phasma, looking far meeker than he has any right to. When it’s just a handful of them left in the clearing, Poe turns to Tak and engages them in hushed conversation, no doubt looking for some answers.

It’s clearly a personal issue. Even though he’s biting at the bit for answers himself, Finn knows it’s best if he gives Poe some privacy. He’s not going to shut Finn out; he’ll come for him when he’s ready. Finn trusts him to do that.

Opting to give the other two some space, Finn walks towards the space where Ren had knelt just moments prior. He stoops to pick up the helmet left there—perhaps no one had wanted to touch it. Not that he can blame them. He turns the helmet over in his hands, studying each part of it. The already ghoulish visage had been warped and then pieced back together, the red following the cracks like veins full of the anger and hatred which Ren had always embodied. This helmet had become a thing which people had learned to fear, which had inspired terror across the galaxy, and yet in his hands now, it’s just a helmet. Just a mask. Just something a sad excuse for a man hid behind.

He feels a sudden shiver run through him. But strangely, it’s not because of the mask. No, this is something else. Some _one_ else.

“Finn. Poe.”

He turns at the sound of his name. Her face lights up as his eyes meet hers, her expression radiant, glowing more luminous than any star he’s seen. He feels a mended connection, like a patch sewn into his heart. The helmet falls to the dirt, once again forgotten as she rushes towards him and fills a space in his arms that he thinks she was always meant to occupy.

Rey is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Tak, my non-binary space wolf lmao. Hopefully you'll enjoy them. They've been... interesting to work with as a character so far. 
> 
> (I have a [rough design of them here](http://imgur.com/a/21PFWAe) as a visual aid, but it's not perfect by any means as I am unfortunately not a talented artist. I traced [this image](https://imgur.com/CCSYcwV), which I would credit to the artist but for the life of me, I can't find the original one.)


	5. stars, hide your fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has returned from Ahch-To, but Finn can't help feeling something's still not quite right.

Rey breathes a soft sigh as she feels Finn's arms close around her. She’s home. She’s where she should be. But when she opens her eyes, she catches sight of Poe hurrying towards them—and stopping. He stands five feet away from them and Rey doesn’t have to probe too deeply to feel his uncertainty. His fear he’s not welcome. His desire to give them privacy interwoven with his desire to join them.

Without a second thought, she reaches her hand out to him. She wants him here with them. It’s not home unless he's with them. A grin stretches across her face as he comes hurtling towards them with the bright energy of a shooting star, his arms wrapping around them both with a tightness that would be painful if not for the emotion fueling it. His warmth enveloping her, joining Finn’s, waves of affection washing against her shores. Luke had been right—Rey belongs here, with them.

The three of them together is like a lock and its matching key. She can feel the pins tumbling into position just where they ought to be, allowing something to turn, to shift, to open. It’s something precise and exacting, something brand new that still has the feel of a well-worn groove. There’s a rightness to this, something tender and comforting which soothes an ache deep inside her heart.

“You came home,” Finn says as they at last pull apart. “Where did you go?”

“I went back to Ahch-To. I had planned to stay there but… Master Skywalker changed my mind,” Rey tells them. She takes one of each their hands in hers. “He helped me to see where I belonged.”

There’s an abrupt outpouring of love and joy coming from both men, reaffirming what she’d just said. But in the midst of this, she still feels a trickle of unease flowing from Poe. Before she can begin to ask what’s bothering him, the pilot brings his other hand up to cover hers, holding it between both of his.

“Rey, I’m sorry,” he says.

She frowns. “Sorry?”

“You were going through something, you were struggling, and I couldn’t see it,” Poe says, seeming frustrated with himself. “I was so focused on everything else that I didn’t even consider how everything was affecting you. This has been hard for you in a way it hasn’t for the rest of us and I should have recognized that.”

“Poe, it’s fine,” she tells him.

“No, it’s not,” Poe says firmly. “And if I’m ever that careless with you again, I want you to—I don’t know—give me a _Force wedgie_ or something.”

Rey purses her lips together in her effort to smother her smile. But her laughter forces it out of hiding and she sees Finn's glowing smile appear to echo it.

“Alright, alright, I forgive you,” Rey says, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry, too. For not being open with either of you. I was afraid of some of the things I’d learned about myself and I was afraid I would…”

She bites her lip. She’d been afraid of so many things. Of who she’d become, of what she would do.

“Hey,” Finn says, squeezing her other hand. “There’s nothing you can’t share with us. Whatever you’re afraid of, we’ll face it with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything alone anymore,” Poe adds in agreement.

And she doesn’t, does she? That was Luke’s point. Her family is here. She just has to trust them to be there for her.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat. You look like you’re starving,” Poe says, nodding back towards the base.

Rey would argue but her stomach makes her decision for her, grumbling loud enough to wake the dead. When was the last time she’d eaten? She isn’t sure. She smiles sheepishly and nods her head. But as the three of them begin walking forward together, Rey notices the fourth figure up ahead—the one Poe had been speaking with when she’d arrived. They lean against a massive tree trunk, turning something over in their hands, looking as though they’re waiting for the trio. And as they get closer, Rey sees what it is that they’re holding: the mask of Kylo Ren.

“It worked,” she blurts. She looks between Finn and Poe. “Leia reached Ben. He’s here, isn’t he?”

“…yeah,” Finn says, looking distinctly uncomfortable when she refers to Ben by his true name. “Him. Hux. Phasma.”

Rey feels as though she’s been slapped. Captain Phasma. Finn had told her more than enough for the name to make her feel sick to her stomach. But she’d died, according to Finn. He’d killed her when he and Rose had infiltrated the First Order. So how…?

“Phasma has been my traveling companion since I found her,” says the figure by the tree. They push off of it and approach the trio. As they do, Rey can see how large they are; standing somewhere near six-and-a-half feet. But she doesn’t feel threatened by this person. She feels something else. They hold a clawed hand out to her. “Commander Tak. You must be Rey of Jakku.”

“Yes, I’m Rey,” Rey answers, shaking their hand. A sensation like static electricity travels up her arm and she meets the commander's gaze. And suddenly she knows. “You’re the one who helped Leia.”

The Shistavanen laughs, a warm sound like an amused bark. “People keep saying that, but Leia did it all herself. I was just support.”

“Thank you,” Rey says earnestly, deflecting their modesty. “For whatever you did. How is she?”

“She’s not conscious, but she’s resting peacefully and Tak says her prognosis is good. Finn and I have seen her and Chewie and 3PO are with her now,” Poe explains. “We can take you in to see her later, once everything's settled here.”

Part of Rey wants to go sprinting through the base until she finds Leia herself. But the more rational part of her knows it won’t do any good. Better to let her rest for now. Besides, there are matters she has to attend to first.

“Yes, I’d like to, whenever I’m able,” Rey agrees. She looks back to Tak, feeling a flow in the Force that only makes her more certain. “In the meantime… I believe I have something of yours.”

Rey reaches into her pack, feeling the curious stares of her companions. She pulls one of two wrapped bundles from among the contents and slowly offers it to Tak, watching with a curiosity of her own as they tuck Kylo Ren’s mask under their arm to accept it. They proceed to unwrap the bundle, delicately peeling back the cloth layers until the saber is revealed. Rey feels many things from them as they trace their claws over it; nostalgia, excitement, wonder.

Regret.

Tak shakes their head, turning the saber over in their hands. “I didn’t know he’d kept it. I was so angry and he was so disappointed… I assumed he’d destroyed it or stripped it down to parts for one of his other students to make use of.”

“Had you not spoken to him since?” Rey asks, her brow furrowed in thought.

“No,” Tak sighs. “I had hoped to speak with Master Luke again before his passing, but… that wasn’t meant to be. When did he give you this?”

“Just before I left Ahch-To to come here,” Rey says. “He appeared before me and asked that I bring it to you. He said that he believed you would need it again.”

Again, Tak seems troubled by her words. “…yes, I believe he was right. Unfortunate that we should only come to agree on anything now.”

They stare pensively down at the saber in their hands. Poe reaches out to offer them a comforting pat on the arm. Rey gets the impression that they’ve known each other for some time—something she’s decided to inquire about later. Then, as though the conversation hadn’t just taken place, Tak clips the saber to their belt and looks up, their serious countenance clearing to make way for a cheery smile.

“But we can discuss these things later. As Poe said, let’s see about getting you fed,” they say. They cough politely. “…frankly, I could use a bite as well.”

The group walks further into the base, discussion flowing evenly between them until a meddroid crosses their path and bustles off away from the cantina. Rey isn’t about to pay it any mind, but Poe jogs out in front of the group, grabbing their attention by halting their progress.

“Actually, I’m going to go check on our, uh, _guests_ and make sure everything’s going smoothly,” Poe informs them, his eyes tracking the meddroid's path. “You three go on ahead and I’ll catch up.”

“Well,” Tak says, “if you’re going then I—”

“No.”

Rey finds herself surprised by how quickly Poe shuts down whatever Tak had been about to say. The scavenger looks from one to the other and concentrates, trying to feel them out. There’s a certain hostility between them now. Resentment, almost. When she looks to Finn for clarification, she merely gets a shrug; he’s just as confused as she is.

“…fine,” Tak says, at last, an agitated edge to the word. “But when the time for discussion on this matter comes, I _will_ be included.”

“Trust me,” Poe says, “considering you brought one of them here, everyone’s eager to hear what you have to say. Including me.”

Tak breathes out in a soft _whuff_ , very nearly looking ready for a fight. But again, as they had mere minutes ago, they drop this in favor of a friendlier persona. Their whole aura shifts, as though they’ve bled the negative emotion from themself like a poison.

“Very well,” Tak says with a nod of their head.

“Let us know if you need help,” Finn says seriously. “I mean it.”

Poe grins at him. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”

Watching the pilot jog after the meddroid, Rey feels like she should point out the impossibility of that statement. She misses Finn and Poe no matter how short a time they’re apart. It sounds silly, though, even to her. So, perhaps this isn’t the best time for that. Later, when the three of them can be alone, when there isn’t all this… well… _everything_ looming over them.

For now, she has three things on her mind:

A full belly, Leia, and Ben.

* * *

_Armitage is five._

_Armitage is scared._

_Armitage is running._

_For weeks he’s planned for this. Sneaking supplies. Tracing routes on maps. Studying the shifts of guards and servants alike. Engineering a device to negate a Zygerrian slave collar. Copying his father’s keycard while he slept._

_And he’d done it. He’d done it all and now they were free. They would run as far as their legs could take them, as far away from the Academy and Project Harvester and Brendol Hux as physically possible._

_It’s raining, but that’s not exactly surprising; it’s **always** raining on Arkanis. He had toyed with the idea of choosing a night where the precipitation was closer to a drizzle for ease of traveling but in the end, he’d decided against it. Heavy rain would mask the sounds of their escape. It would wash away their tracks, cover their scents. The heavier the rain, the better, he’d thought._

_Armitage regrets that thought just a little now that they’re actually in the thick of it. Soaked with rainwater, his clothes and backpack feel five times as heavy as they ought. His lungs burn in his chest and he struggles to draw sufficient breath, his mouth hanging open as he pants. But with this comes the misfortune of inhaling rain with it, sending him into coughing fits which leave him feeling even more breathless than before._

_He should have known his body wouldn’t have the strength for this endeavor. He’d been born premature and it seemed that first mistake was going to follow him for the rest of his life. Underdeveloped lungs and a wet planetary atmosphere had led to chronic pneumonia, which had left him frail and bedridden for most of his young life. He’d really only become well enough to leave his family’s estate this past year. But he was **born** weak, that’s what his father had said. Born blue and limp and too pathetic to even cry properly. Sometimes, Brendol would say, he wished he’d told the doctors not to bother, to spare him the embarrassment._

_Armitage grits his teeth. He can’t stop. He won’t stop. He’s not weak. He’s **not** weak._

_The ground still hurts when he trips and falls to it, even as wet as it is. It takes him longer than he’d like for him to summon the strength to rise to his hands and knees. His chest is on fire. He can’t breathe. He has to get up, they have to keep moving, but his limbs quake with the strain of even lifting him from the ground._

_“Armitage!”_

_He wonders what he looks like to them. Pathetic, no doubt. Like dead weight. He raises his eyes from the mud, peering at his companion through the sheets of rain. Their pupils glow red in the dark, emanating from their pitch-black shape as they tower over him, making them look eerie and monstrous in a way they’d never looked in their cell. But he’s not afraid of them—he knows what real monsters look like._

_“Sick?” they wonder._

_Their Basic is choppy still, even after his attempts at giving them lessons. Armitage shakes his head. He can’t seem to find the breath even to speak. It takes him several long moments to force them out._

_“No,” he gasps. “I’m…”_

_He places a hand to his own chest, trying to make them understand. It hurts. It hurts so much but he needs to get up on his own. He needs to push past this. But it’s biology, he finds himself thinking. Some people are just born weak. It’s in their blood. Inescapable._

_The warm little tickle he feels suddenly in the back of his mind has become familiar by now. Comforting, almost. They understand. His mind to theirs makes more sense than anything which could pass either of their lips. They know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, and he knows them. The Shistavanen crouches beside him, lowering themself onto all fours._

_“Help,” they tell him. “Carry.”_

_Armitage shakes his head, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. If any of them escape, they’re lost to the rain. The Shistavanen head-butts him fondly, prodding him into allowing them to help._

_“Armitage,” they say again, quieter now, their ears flattened against their skull. “Come please?”_

_It’s humiliating climbing into their back and wrapping his arms around their neck to keep himself steady. But the moment they take off, he sees that even when he’d been able to carry himself, he’d only been holding them back. Despite the added weight of him and his pack, they tear through the forest on all fours as though they were **born** for this. Armitage wonders, with all those years spent in a cage, when was the last time they had been able to run like this?_

_The blur of trees passing by makes him grow dizzy and nauseated. He’s tired. He’s ashamed. He wraps his arms tighter around Tak’s neck and buries his face in their rain-soaked mane, thinking of better things._

_He has to try harder._

_He won’t be weak._

* * *

Hux is dry when he wakes. There’s no rain. There never was any—it was merely an echo of something long past. Gingerly, he sits himself upright and attempts to reorient himself in his holding cell. He presses a hand to his head. He feels strange. Like he has a headache but… not quite. There’s an uncomfortable pressure at his temples but it isn’t painful, exactly.

And why that dream? He hasn’t dreamt of that in years. A decade, at least. He’d been proud of that, too. It was a shedding of weak thoughts. A shedding of attachments. He had carefully and methodically purged himself of that inferior version of himself. He had no use for things of the past. He had no use for memories of Arkanis or anything on it.

It’s just all of the chaos of the day, Hux reasons. The stress of having played the spy for months now. It’s just his mind drawing parallels where it shouldn’t. Because that had been running away, back then when he was a child. This isn’t. This is strategy.

The sound of the door opening makes him jump and he sits up ramrod straight. No one needs to know he’d been sleeping. He hears voices hushed just beyond the door—agitated, arguing perhaps—before Poe Dameron appears with a droid by his side. Not the garish white and orange BB-unit which usually accompanies him, but rather a meddroid that looks to be several years outdated.

“I’ll pass,” Hux says without preamble.

Annoyingly, this only seems to amuse Dameron who gestures at his leg. Hux follows his gaze to the bandage around his thigh, soaked through with blood.

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Dameron says. “It’s not First Order tech, but it’s better than bleeding out in a cell. Or maybe it isn’t, why don’t you tell me?”

Hux clenches his jaw irritably. The rebel pilot has a point. As much as Hux might complain about the droid giving him tetanus, it’s better than the alternative. He huffs and crosses his arms tightly in front of his chest, which Dameron interprets as a go-ahead. He waves the meddroid forward and leans casually against the wall, looking for all the world as though he’s merely dropped in for a friendly chat.

Pain is nothing new to Hux and so he has next to no reaction as the meddroid gets to work. That is until the droid starts cutting.

“Come on, Hugs, you can’t tell me it hurts _that_ bad,” Dameron says with an amused grin.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Hux sneers at him. “This rust bucket is mutilating my trousers!”

Dameron has the audacity to actually _laugh_ at him.

“We can get you a new pair of pants,” he says, shaking his head.

Hux wrinkles his nose in distaste. “I’ve seen your wardrobe, Dameron. I’m not impressed.”

“Sorry we don’t carry spare First Order uniforms on hand,” Dameron says dryly. He cocks his head to the side. “You betrayed them. You’re gonna have to get used to the fact that you’re not their general anymore and you’re gonna have to do it sooner rather than later.”

Dameron may be right, but it doesn’t mean Hux is going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. But the fact is, yes, he’d betrayed the First Order. It was the only thing he’d ever known and the fact that he can never go back has been rapidly sinking in since he was dragged aboard the _Falcon_. But as he sees it, he’s fucked no matter what his choices. It’s just a matter of who he can take down with him.

“I hardly see the point,” Hux says. “Once you have whatever you need from me and I’m of no further use, I expect to be summarily executed. I don’t work for you, I’m not one of you, and I see no reason to pretend otherwise.”

“Okay, first of all, we’re not going to execute you. That’s not how we do things here,” Dameron says. He actually sounds a touch annoyed to Hux and the general can’t help but feel smug about it. “Maybe that’s how _you’re_ used to doing things, but that’s not how the Resistance works. Not even for someone like _you_ ; because believe me, I’ve got plenty of people out there who would love even one minute in a locked room with you.”

“I’m flattered,” Hux says flatly.

“You blew up five planets, and that’s just for starters,” Dameron says. “There are people here who lost friends and family in that attack. Personally, I can’t even begin to fathom what kind of excuse for a human being can do something like that without a second thought.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy destroying entire planets,” Hux corrects him. At Dameron’s surprised expression, he clarifies, “It’s a ridiculous waste of resources.”

Dameron sighs loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face. In Hux’s mind, he’s clearly regretting trusting Finn enough to bring him with them. But what did he expect? That Hux would suddenly warm up to them and they would be friends? That they could be hospitable and he’d be so moved he’d join their cause? That he’d fold like a stray dog at the first kind hand he finds? Therein lies the weakness of the Resistance: kindness. Sentiment. They’re soft when they should be vicious and if they had realized that, perhaps they would have fared better thus far.

“You know, you’re lucky there’s at least one person here who gives a shit about you,” Dameron informs him. “Can’t say I understand why.”

Hux raises an eyebrow at that. Now Dameron is the one looking smug.

“Yeah, they’ve been beyond eager to get their paws on you,” Dameron says cryptically. “You’ll see them later today, though. We’ll let you, Phasma and Ren out for a little air so we can—”

“ _What_.”

The way Hux spits the word, it’s less of a question and more like a demand. He’s sure he must have heard the man wrong. It’s the blood loss. Surely it is.

“Oh, did no one tell you?” Dameron asks, feigning innocence. “We’ve got your buddies Phasma and Kylo Ren in the next two cells.”

As much as Hux may not wish to give Dameron the upper hand, in this case, he finds his typically calm veneer slipping away from him. Phasma… and Kylo Ren. He can _maybe_ understand the latter, since that party is presumably still living, at the very least, but…

“…that’s not possible,” Hux says stiffly. “Captain Phasma was killed in the line of duty by your—”

“Careful what you say, Hugs,” Dameron warns him.

“By _FN-2187_ ,” Hux says deliberately.

There’s a sharp gleam of fury in the rebel pilot’s eye, but it seems he’s not rising to the bait any more than Hux. Meanwhile, the meddroid has finished its task and is currently roving towards the cell door. Dameron lazily opens the door to allow it to exit, but lingers there himself, casting one last look back at Hux.

“Anyway, I’m sure you just can’t _wait_ to catch up with your best buddy Kylo,” Dameron says. “So I’ll leave you alone to prepare for your touching reunion later tonight.”

And with that final taunt, the pilot exits, the door swishing shut behind him and leaving Hux to stew in the dangerous mire of his own thoughts.

* * *

Although Finn wouldn’t consider himself a light eater, watching Rey and Tak decimate their piled-high plates is enough to make him give the matter more thought. Rey has had a hefty appetite since the moment he’d met her, but then, being a scavenger wasn’t exactly a lucrative business for her and regular meals were scarce. Even still, her appetite seemed a better fit to the furry mountain sitting beside her. Maybe it was just something about Force users? Did they expend more energy and therefore require a higher caloric intake to sustain that energy?

“—so, the first place I remember is Arkanis, but I wasn’t born there,” Tak says between bites.

Finn curses his wandering mind. While he’d been caught up in thought, Rey and Tak had been getting to know one another. If he’d been paying attention, he might have learned something useful. He trusts Poe when he says to trust that Tak is on their side, but there’s something about them that’s still bothering him. It nags at him like a pebble in his shoe that he can’t stop to remove.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Arkanis,” Rey says. “I’ve heard it rains all the time there. Not like Jakku.”

Tak wrinkles their nose in agreement. “Jakku was not my favorite destination. It’s nice here, though. I like green places.”

Finn can’t help but get lost in Rey’s smile as she beams back at the commander.

“So do I,” Rey says. “I’d like to find somewhere green to settle down someday. Or build a home, at least.”

“Why not try Yavin 4?”

Finn looks over his shoulder to find Poe approaching their table, munching happily on a piece of fruit. He knows Yavin 4 is Poe's homeworld… but not much beyond that.

“We have a wet season, a dry season, forests, oceans, The Lost City of the Jedi,” the pilot says. “Pretty sure my parents' place is still livable, too.”

“The Lost City of the Jedi?” Rey echoes, her eyes alight with wonder. “And it’s where you grew up?”

Poe gestures between himself and Tak. “Where both of us grew up, technically. Luke picked Yavin 4 as the site for his Jedi Academy and my parents picked it as the place to build their home.”

“It’s a good place to live,” Tak agrees, picking thoughtful at their teeth with a fishbone. “And yes, your home is still _livable_ , Poe. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Finn sees the lopsided smile on Poe’s face and knows he’s eager to change the subject. As open and talkative as Poe can be, he never seems to enjoy discussing his life before the Resistance. Finn had brought it up casually a handful of times and Poe always managed to steer them into a different topic without ever revealing much of anything.

“Yeah, well… just haven’t been back in a while,” Poe says, clearing his throat. “But it looks like you two have earned your spots in the Clean Plate Club. Finn, you’d better pick up the pace if you wanna join them.”

Finn snorts. “I’m very clearly outclassed here. So why don’t you sit down and help?”

“I would love nothing more than to be your knight in shining armor,” Poe responds cheekily, plucking a piece of meat off Finn’s plate and popping it in his mouth. Sitting beside him, the pilot gives a deep hum of appreciation. “Shit, that’s good. Who’s on kitchen duty?”

“Connix and Mitaka,” Finn says, pushing his plate so it rests between them. “Well, technically just Mitaka, but you know.”

Where you found one, you tended to find the other.

“He was one of my favorite acquisitions,” Tak says with a wolfish grin.

Finn nearly chokes on his water. “Acquis—You mean _you_ —?”

As far as Finn is aware, Dopheld Mitaka had been added to their ranks after the destruction of Starkiller Base when his escape shuttle had been found crashed and badly damaged. He’d been rescued from it minus a leg… and plus a cat, of all things. They’d picked up a few prisoners and a few prisoners-turned-allies, so he hadn’t thought too much of it. Sure, it had been a little odd, had taken a bit for him to get used to, but Mitaka had never been one to crack the whip as much as some other people Finn had worked under and so there wasn’t exactly a great deal of bad blood between them personally.

And frankly, once he’d been with them for some time, Finn couldn’t help but think that maybe they weren’t so terribly different. He’d talked about his family, about growing up in an Imperial legacy household. There wasn’t ever much discussion about what he would do with his life—it was a foregone conclusion he would be a soldier. So he had gone to the Academy, graduated at the top of his class, worked hard to make his way up the ranks. And… all for nothing, it seemed, in the end. Because by his own admission, things were a hell of a lot better working for the Resistance. (Finn figured not getting thrown around and choked out by Kylo Ren tended to make for a more positive work environment.)

Finn had known all of this. He just hadn't known exactly _who_ had decided Mitaka was not only worth rescuing, but worth keeping.

“The Force led me to Mitaka's shuttle,” Tak says, resting their chin in their hand. “And Millicent.”

“The Force led you to a cat,” Finn says flatly as Poe snickers beside him.

The Shistavanen shrugs with an enigmatic smile. “The Force works in mysterious ways, as I’m sure you’ll come to find out. In any case, it led me to Mitaka and to Millicent, just as it led me to Phasma. And here.”

“The Force led you back here?” Rey asks curiously, clearly wanting more information as much as Finn does.

“It seems to _lead you_ to a lot of First Order personnel,” Finn says, his suspicions once again raised.

Beside him, Poe clears his throat uncomfortably, drawing Finn’s attention. He catches a look pass between the acting general and the commander and though he isn’t certain of what the look in itself means, he knows there’s something they know that he doesn’t. Nor does Rey, judging by her perplexed frown.

“Yeah, about that,” Poe says, drumming his fingers against his caf mug. He sighs, running a hand through his hair in an agitated motion. “Before we bring our three _special guests_ out for a talk later…”

He pauses, a frown forming on his face. Any hint of his formerly good mood has vanished, replaced by a quiet apprehension as he looks from Finn to Rey.

“There are some things you need to know.”


	6. come, civil night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's past is prologue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again. 2020 just keeps rolling out the hits and I had to bury my other grandmother. Things have been rough and writing this chapter was a bit of a chore, since there's a lot of exposition and not a lot of action going on. But I promise the next chapter will be more eventful and should come sooner than this one did.

Rose isn’t sure exactly why she’s been summoned to the conference room, but she certainly has an idea. Considering the commotion earlier on the base, it’s not difficult to guess that it has to do with their three new prisoners. Of course, one could argue that there was only one technical prisoner, but she’s not interested in technicalities. All three of them have blood on their hands that can’t be washed off.

But why had Poe asked explicitly for her? Yes, she considers him a friend, as she does Finn and Rey, but Rose isn’t exactly, well… a Resistance hero. She’s an engineer. A damn good engineer, she likes to think, but still an engineer.

“Rose, hey!”

Poe calls out to her the moment she steps into the room. The room is barer than she’s used to seeing it, occupied only by a handful of individuals. Yes, Rose is just an engineer, but with the way they all beam at her, practically tripping over themselves to greet her, she feels like anything but. Despite the heavy thoughts weighing on her mind, she feels a smile stretch across her face at the sight of all of them in one place, returned from their journeys and unharmed.

Although there can be many disadvantages to being shorter in stature, being scooped up in a hug by Rey so ferocious it lifts her off her feet is certainly not among them. Rose's spirits are raised along with her body as she hugs back as tightly as she can manage.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Rose tells her. “None of us knew what to think when Finn and Poe came back without you.”

Rey sets her down, stepping back enough to get a good look at her. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… a lot's happened. It’s been difficult.”

“Which is part of why I asked you to join us,” Poe says, ushering her towards the table where they'd gathered. “We have a lot to break down, and I want your input before we take anything public.”

Rose glances around the table. Apart from Poe, Finn, and Rey, they are joined by three other people: Commander Tak, Lieutenant Connix, and… Mitaka. The latter shies away from her gaze, stroking the cat in his lap with a sort of manic anxiety. Although Rose has never held any spite towards the man himself, knowing that he had been a ranking officer in the First Order had made her… perhaps a bit frostier than need be. Frankly, Mitaka came across as the nervous and excitable sort, leading her to wonder how he’d survived in the First Order as long as he had.

“You want my input?” Rose echoes questioningly as she sits.

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Poe says with a laugh. “You’re as much a part of this team as any of us. And I need as many level heads as I can get.”

“Oh,” Rose says, blinking slowly. “…okay then.”

Finn nudges her with his elbow, shooting her a smile when she looks up. She knows what he’s trying to say. _Don’t forget; you’re one of us._ It’s just that she doesn’t really feel like one of _them_. Not completely. Still, she _wants_ to be. And if they want her to be, too, then, well…

“Right,” Rose amends with a firm nod. “Happy to help.”

“Nice, perfect,” Poe says, clapping his hands together.

He doesn’t take a seat like the rest of them and instead chooses to pace the room. Rose glances at Finn and Rey, but judging by their expressions, they know about as much as she does regarding his restless behavior. He seems agitated. Or nervous. It’s difficult to tell since he won’t stop moving long enough for her to get a proper look at him.

“Tak, why don’t you start?” Poe says suddenly. “Since that’s where a lot of this starts, chronologically.”

The Shistavanen shrugs, not appearing bothered in the same way as Poe. They scratch at their chin with a clawed forefinger, humming deeply.

“Because you don’t want to go first?” they ask, smiling faintly.

Poe places his hands on his hips, shooting them an annoyed look. Rose isn’t surprised when this only broadens the Shistavanen’s smile. While she wouldn’t say she and Tak are the best of friends, she’s been with the Resistance long enough that their propensity towards mischief is something relatively well known. They have a habit of saying whatever is on their mind—sometimes, it’s difficult to tell when they’re doing so to get a rise out of someone or when it’s just genuine social ignorance. In this case, Rose is confident in deciding it’s the former.

Poe and Tak had flown together for five years or so and had bunked together even longer. Tak didn’t have quite have Poe’s talent as a pilot, but they were indeed welcome in times when the Resistance was short on numbers. In any case, the pair are good colleagues and even better friends. The rumors all stated that they had grown up together alongside Ben Solo… but most of that had been long before Rose had joined the Resistance. You can get a lot of surprisingly accurate information from the rumor mill, but she knows when to take it with a grain of salt.

“Because I think it’s best to start with you,” Poe says, the firm set of his jaw a telling sign that he’s not in the mood to play. “As I just said.”

“Mmmmmalright then,” Tak says. They glance around the rest of the table, genuinely looking a bit lost on where to begin. “This is all going to seem a bit disjointed, and it’s a lot to take in, but if you bear with us, I promise it will all make sense in the end. Most likely, anyway. So, let’s see… Well... Do any of you know what Project Harvester was?”

Mitaka’s hand shoots into the air like an eager schoolboy, but Finn beats him to it, not bothering to wait for instruction to deliver his answer.

“It was a program developed through the Empire which would find and capture Force-sensitive children with the intent of developing them into highly trained Imperial agents,” Finn says. At the questioning glances, he shrugs. “Even stormtroopers have to take history class.”

Tak huffs a laugh and elbows the former First Order officer sitting to their left. “True enough, eh, Mitaka?”

Mitaka doesn’t seem to find it quite as humorous. “Er… yes.”

“Well, in any case, that’s where my story begins. From what I remember, at least,” Tak explains. “My earliest memories are of a cell block within a compound located on Arkanis.”

“So when you said you were originally from Arkanis…” Rey murmurs.

“It was not by my choice, correct,” Tak says, still seemingly in good spirits. “I was approximately five when I was rescued during a raid by the New Republic, but until that time, I was subject to some of the cruelest treatment I can recall at any point in my life. However, I tell you this not so that you will pity me, but rather so you will understand its importance when I say that during that time, I met someone who I bonded with in such a way as I have not experienced since. He was the first person to show me even the barest kindness. He made me understand what it meant to love another person—and showed me that not every hand that would reach for me would do so with cruel intentions. He gave me _hope_.”

It’s a touching sentiment, in Rose’s mind. Romantic, in its own way. Yet despite these poetic words, Rose can’t shake the uncomfortable notion that they’re meant to cover something up. It reminds her of the many funerals she’s attended in her young life. Flowers distract you with their beauty, their sweet redolence enough that the cloying scent of death hovering just beneath nearly escapes your notice. Nearly, but not quite. It’s still there when you remember to look for it; most merely choose not to. It’s easier to pretend, just for a little while, that you don’t know it’s there.

“Tak, why don’t we skip the exposition and just tell them who it is,” Poe says, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Tak nods, apparently understanding his eagerness to get this over with. “The person I’m referring to is General Hux.”

There’s a beat of silence before Finn jumps on their statement as though he’s just been personally attacked. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. I mean—Hux? _Really_? Poe, come on, man…”

“I know, I know, it’s a tough pill to swallow,” Poe says, his hands thrown up defensively. “But just hear them out, first.”

“But it’s _Hux_ ,” Rose can’t help but reiterate. “The Starkiller.”

Tak's nose wrinkles in obvious distaste for the nickname. It’s not as though they haven’t heard it before—it’s relatively common to hear it lobbed around by Resistance members when referring to the man responsible for the destruction of the entire Hosnian system.

“You don’t know Armitage the way I do,” they say.

“’Armitage’?” Finn blurts, his tone steeped in repulsion.

“Hux was his father’s name,” Tak says coolly. “He has always been Armitage to me. Because he wasn’t like Brendol Hux; he was never meant to be.”

“And yet he is,” Rose says, anger bubbling up within her. “A murderous tyrant who would enslave my people for resources or blow up five planets with the push of a button.”

Tak sighs, looking a touch weary to Rose’s eye, but presses on. “I do not deny those facts. What I am trying to impress upon you is that Armitage wasn’t that person when I knew him. I have spent the past thirty years of my life trying to find a way to remove him from a system that knows only pain and punishment. And if I had been able to do so sooner, perhaps many of these atrocities he has committed could have been avoided.”

“But they weren’t avoided!” Rose presses. “You just said yourself that you knew him _thirty years ago_. Are you the same person you were then?”

“...No,” Tak admits slowly. The question seems to discomfit them for reasons Rose can’t place. “I’m not.”

“Then you may as well be talking about two different people,” Rose says. “He’s ruthless. When he ordered his troopers to kill Finn and me, he smiled. He _smiled_ because he _enjoyed_ it. I don’t care who you think he used to be; he’s a psychotic mass murderer.”

She’s never feared Tak. Not once since she’s joined the Resistance. It’s not because Rose is clueless to the things they’re capable of—she’s heard the stories. She knows what those claws and teeth can do, knows the things they’ve done. She knows what that hulking mountain of fur and muscle could do to someone like her without even thinking about using the Force. But she’s never had any reason to fear the commander simply because she was safe in the knowledge that Tak would never harm any of them.

As they stare at Rose from across the table, she feels a chill journey down her spine as that certainty evaporates. Tak gazes back at her with the sharp eyes of a predator, and for the first time since they’d met, Rose realizes she’s never considered the commander’s motives beyond that motive which the Resistance collectively shares: to defeat the First Order. Now, though, it seems as if she ought to have done so sooner as their sharp gaze pins her in place.

“I do not expect someone who is Force null to understand,” Tak says, their tone calm and even despite the fire in their eyes. “But I have not dedicated my life to retrieving him based on simple whims or adolescent fancy. Even as a child untrained in the complexities of the Force, I knew the bond that developed between us was of great significance. For better or worse, Armitage is my… I suppose 'soulmate' would be the closest Basic term I can offer you. So, you should understand that I will not allow anyone to stand in my way now, not when I have come this close to achieving my goal.”

For a moment, Rose doesn’t know precisely how to respond. After all, how could she? Someone she’s known and trusted for years has essentially told them all that they’re infatuated with a man who had ended billions of lives. That their whole life has revolved around reuniting with him.

“You’re insane,” Finn says when she finds she can’t summon the words. He looks to Poe, his expression wounded. “I can’t believe you would even begin to think this is okay. It’s ridiculous.”

“It may not be,” Rey says suddenly.

Half the table must have whiplash for how quickly their heads snap towards the scavenger. Rose feels an echo of Finn's sentiments, a little bubble of hurt welling up within her at the thought that her friends—her _family_ —seem to accept this idea so willingly. She watches Rey frown before she slowly shakes her head.

“It’s… The Force is complicated,” Rey tells them. “I know that sounds like an excuse, but I can’t sit here and condemn Commander Tak’s connection to that man when I have a similar connection with Ben.”

“That’s different,” Finn protests, looking urgently between Rey and Poe. Rose has questions about that look. She decides to file it away for later. “You said that you know he still has good in him. He’s Leia’s son; he comes from good people.”

“Not all of us have that privilege.”

Mitaka, who has silently sat beside Connix for the length of the conversation, decides to make himself known. Only the moment he does, Rose can tell he has some regrets as color rises to his cheeks. Sometimes it’s hard to believe he'd been command staff in the First Order. Dark haired and doe-eyed, Mitaka frequently comes across as meek and far more innocent than he actually is. With that in mind, Rose has to wonder if Tak had been done in at such a young age by a similar trick.

“I can’t speak for General Hux personally, and I don’t intend to make excuses,” he says slowly, fixing his eyes on the cat in his lap. “But with all due respect, none of you know what it’s like to grow up within the First Order. Except for Finn, of course, but even then… our experiences differ.”

“Because you weren’t abducted as children?” Finn asks pointedly.

To Rose’s eyes, it looks as though Mitaka means to say something else. But at the last moment, he backs down, shaking his head and focusing on stroking the purring cat in his lap.

“As I said, our experiences differ,” Mitaka murmurs. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Finn, I don’t think anyone’s trying to argue that General Hux is a good man,” Connix tacks on. Rose doesn’t miss the way that her hand comes to rest on Mitaka’s back. “I want to see him punished for his crimes just as sorely as you do. But we’re treading on extremely delicate ground with all of this. I’m honestly not sure we can resolve this satisfactorily without Leia—with no offense meant to you, General Dameron.”

Poe huffs a tired snort of laughter. “None taken. I kind of agree, but we have to do our best with what we have.”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement that ripples through the group as everyone separately digests the information they’ve just been given. Rose’s dissatisfaction must show on her face, she thinks, because in the next moment, Tak is addressing her once more. The flash of raptorial energy she had seen in their eyes has gone, replaced with the serene, amiable countenance she’s familiar with.

“Rose,” they say. “I know this is especially difficult for you to accept. Believe me when I say that I’m not ignorant of the role he has played in your family’s pain. It is not my intention to argue that he should be allowed to go free and do as he pleases without consequence. All I ask is that you consider that even he is not beyond redemption, if not for the sake of adhering to your own morals, then as a favor to me. Please.”

She doesn’t want to agree to this. Especially not when Tak has fundamentally just backed her into a corner. Adhering to her own morals, they had said. Because Rose _does_ believe in second chances, she _does_ believe in the ability to change for the better. In fact, she thinks it’s this kind of mindset that separates them from the First Order. But she doesn’t want to apply those morals to this man, who has taken so much from so many people.

And yet she can’t fight the imploring eyes of the commander. There’s something sad, she thinks, in the fact that Tak appears to cling so desperately to someone they can’t even say they truly know. Someone they had only known briefly in childhood. Someone whose simple act of kindness had cemented their loyalty to him forever, it seems. Yes, there is something deeply tragic in that, and Rose wishes she could convince them to abandon their efforts and spare themself from the inevitable pain that lies at the end of this path. But she knows better.

“If I agree to that for you, it doesn’t mean I forgive him for anything,” Rose says firmly.

“I’m not asking you to,” Tak says gently. “And I never will.”

“…fine,” Rose says.

Tak takes a moment to study her, watching her intently in silence before apparently deciding she’s telling the truth. They nod to themself, folding their arms in front of them and leaning heavily on the table. Rose remembers suddenly that she’d heard Tak had done something to prevent Leia’s death, and, looking at them now, she can see their weariness extends beyond just the situation before them. Despite this, they press on, a far off look in their blue eyes as they stare at the center of the table.

“We’re about the same age, he and I. Although I was on Arkanis for years, our first meeting didn’t come until we were both approximately five standard years of age. You see, Armitage was frequently ill as a child and therefore had spent much of his time before this confined to bed. It’s one of the many reasons his father thought very little of him. I was… well, a difficult case for them to handle. Commandant Hux gave me to Armitage as a project once he was well enough to leave their estate. It was a test of sorts. To see if his son could tame the savage beast in Cell 37,” Tak recounts, their lip curling in distaste. But just as soon as the disgusted look had appeared on their face, it’s gone, replaced by something far softer. Something gentle and fond. “At first, I lashed out at him just the same as anyone else there. I had refused to learn any of the Basic they had tried to teach me, so we had no way to communicate with one another. He came to me for three weeks straight before I felt him. His presence in the Force, I mean. I didn’t have a name for it back then, and neither did he. It was just some strange power which we both shared.”

“Wait,” Rey cuts in, her expression beyond confused to Rose’s eyes. “I was certain he was Force null. I was in his head. Ben even referred to him that way.”

Tak frowns slightly. “He wasn’t. Though, it is possible to damage and even sever one’s connection to the Force. I think there’s a chance this may be what happened because he was sensitive back then during my time on Arkanis. Not to the same degree as you or myself, but undeniably sensitive all the same. It’s how we communicated. We could pass images to each other, memories… things that transcended language. Though he did begin to teach me my first willing lessons in Basic, I didn’t need words to know he was… unhappy. Brendol Hux was not a kind man in any sense of the word. Armitage was a… well…”

Again, Tak frowns, looking unsettled. As much as Rose may despise the man they’re discussing, she finds herself sucked into this tale of the commander’s past; something they’re so rarely open about that most in the Resistance couldn’t say they had ever been born at all and hadn’t just spontaneously popped into being as a child within the Resistance.

“His childhood and the circumstances of his birth were not pleasant,” Tak says slowly, carefully, clearing metering what information they part with. “He was not a happy person.”

“I’m shocked,” Rose says flatly.

The commander snorts in a visibly irate fashion but says nothing else, clearly not wanting to waste time arguing each time one of them disagrees with them. Rose nearly wishes they had. She doesn’t like this strangely sympathetic view the Shistavanen has of the First Order’s general. The man was damn near their poster boy. An unhappy childhood doesn’t excuse that.

“In any case… although I could not remember my own parents, I do remember being confused as to why anyone would hate their child in the way that Brendol did. He’d wanted a son like himself, and Armitage simply wasn’t. As such, any… _weaknesses_ were met with severe punishment. There were many occasions where he would arrive at the door to my cell bruised and in pain—there were other times I would not see him for days due to the severity of his injuries. I think some of the frequency of his visits may have simply been to hide. And I found myself growing to care for him. He had treated me kindly, even when I had not done him the same in turn. He’d brought bacta to apply to the burns from my shock collar and my other injuries. He would risk his father’s wrath to sneak me food or water when I had been denied them. I grew to trust him and to look forward to his visits. They were the only thing that I had.”

“Couldn’t it have been an act?” Rose asks. “Playing a sympathetic card to win you over like his father wanted?”

She’s surprised when Tak huffs a soft laugh, a radiant smile lighting up their features. “No, though I understand why you would think so. It would make sense, seeing the man he is today. But that wasn’t something he could have faked. We were too connected—bonded—through the Force. Which is how we were able to plan our escape.”

“The General tried to run away?” Mitaka asks, leaning towards them with a look of intense interest. Clearly, this information is as new to him as it is to Rose.

“Yes. We did it together. Even then, Armitage, well… he was brilliant,” Tak says brightly. To Rose, they nearly look proud to be able to say it, as though forgetting what kinds of things that brilliance had led to. “He engineered a device to short out and unlock my shock collar. He cloned his father’s keycard to unlock my cell door without detection. He packed and planned for weeks, studied guard rotations, plotted map routes, and then we did it. We got out, and we ran through with wind and the rain, night and day. The plan had been to get far enough away that we would be safe and then find some way to return for his mother, to take her with us. It’s strange, but that time on the run with him remain some of my fondest memories. I had never been free before. I had never experienced this feeling that I could run and run and keep on running forever. That I could outrun the fastest ship in the galaxy, like there was lightning in my veins.”

The Shistavanen reaches up, rubbing a finger along the jagged scar that cuts across their muzzle. Admittedly Rose had always been curious where it had come from, but it’s just not the sort of thing you ask someone. This, though, isn’t even remotely how she’d imagined it.

“We managed to last a week and a half before Brendol found us. They weren’t gentle taking us in; his underlings used electrowhips to subdue us. I wasn’t… I wasn’t strong enough then to fight them off. Brendol personally gave me this scar and made certain I was separated from his son,” Tak says, still rubbing their snout, deep in thought. “It was the last time I saw Armitage face-to-face. Although I could still sense him, we were unable to communicate. The New Republic raided the planet not long after. I know now that Brendol took him and fled, but at the time, I suddenly felt a great tearing deep within me—our bond had been severed, destroyed. It was gone. And for many years after, I thought he must have perished. I thought only death could possibly produce such a horrid feeling, such pain. I ached for months after as though it were a physical injury. There are days I still feel that ache.”

“That’s why you believe his connection to the Force was damaged,” Rey concludes. “By who? Snoke? …Palpatine?”

“I don’t know,” Tak admits with a sigh. “I’m not sure that he knows either. But… that is my connection to Armitage Hux. I have chased that connection in such a way that it has brought me to those close to him. It brought me to you, Mitaka,” they say, nodding at the man to their left, “to Phasma... and even to his mother. For now, think of that what you will.”

The tale hasn’t made Rose feel any more sympathetic to Hux himself, but at the very least, she thinks she understands Tak’s motivations a touch better. It’s just that she can’t help but feel it will all end in disaster for them. Even if he had been the kind, caring boy Tak insists he was, that’s no longer who he is. Looking into his eyes that day as she knelt beside Finn, Rose hadn’t seen even a glimmer of the person that Tak so adores. If that part of him had ever existed, it’s long gone; smothered like an errant flame beneath the heel of the First Order.

“Poe,” Tak says, glancing up at the acting general with a look that can only be called apologetic. “I’m afraid I’m rather tired now.”

Rose turns to look at the flyboy turned acting general, wondering what more he might have to add to this story.

* * *

Poe watches Tak with some concern. It’s rare for them to admit that they’re tired, but then, this is an unusual situation to begin with. He can’t stop himself from reaching out to place a hand on the commander’s shoulder.

“That’s fine, you did great,” he says, squeezing their shoulder. “Did most of the heavy lifting for me.”

Tak musters a small smile at him but not much else. Once again, Poe feels worry prickling at the back of his neck. Leia’s out of commission, Tak is wilting right before his eyes, and right now, he knows he has to work hard to get everyone in this room on his side. Finn especially. Rey had seemed to take Tak’s tale in stride in a way that Finn couldn’t, but that’s hardly surprising. He wouldn’t expect Finn to be overly sympathetic of anything having to do with Hux, first off, and Finn just doesn’t _know_ Tak the way Poe does. It’s harder to trust them when their first meeting has been under less than ideal circumstances. To Finn, it probably looks like they’ve been rolling out the red carpet for the First Order.

“Alright,” Poe says, breathing out a harsh sigh and taking to pacing once again. He’s full of nervous energy, and he just never had been very good at sitting still even when he wasn’t. He’s a doer. He goes out and does things. Sitting here like this… it’s making him feel restless, cooped up. But it’s a necessary evil in this case. “I can’t say that my portion of this is going to be as poetic as Tak’s, but it needs to be put it in the open all the same.”

Stars, he is not looking forward to this. But it’s a hole he’d dug himself, so he can’t exactly cry over it. Except he’s awfully good at that, isn’t he? Shooting himself in the foot, making his own bed… really, just being his own worst enemy.

“So, first off, I think it’s important to establish that because Luke chose my home planet as where he would train future Jedi, I grew up with Tak and Kylo Ren—Ben Solo. He was just Ben back in those days,” Poe says, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly too-dry lips. Leia always thinks to have glasses and pitchers of water supplied during meetings. He’d forgotten. He’s not used to this. He’s not sure he ever will be. “Meaning that everything you just heard from Tak about Hux, I already knew.”

He waits for it to come and, sure as the setting sun, Finn delivers. The former stormtrooper frowns up at him, undoubtedly recalling their recent flight from First Order custody.

“If you knew all of that, is that why you agreed to bring him with us?” Finn asks.

…except that’s not how Poe had expected him to address this issue at all. Rather than see it as Poe has, he’s wondering if Poe’s trust in him wasn’t what he thought it was.

“No,” Poe admits. “I had planned to leave him. I only went along with it because you asked me to trust you. And I did. I do.”

And Finn looks… surprised. As though this isn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Even after the talk they’d had just before all hell had broken loose on base, he still wondered. Poe can’t say he blames him. But as he stares back at him, he prays Finn can read the one thought that’s on his mind, the one thing he’d had to make him understand: _I can’t do this without you. I need you._

Apparently, his unspoken message gets through. Finn nods quickly, but his eyes never leave Poe’s. He understands. And if Poe’s reading his smile correctly, he’s _relieved_. As though his most significant concern had been whether or not Poe truly trusts him. If it weren’t for the importance of the discussion they’re having, Poe isn’t sure he wouldn’t throw himself to his knees and talk until his voice failed him to convince Finn that there’s nothing he values more than the trust between them.

But those kinds of dramatic displays will have to wait.

“Tak, I’m sorry,” Poe says, turning his attention to his old friend. “But I felt, as I’m sure you know many others feel, that this isn’t going to end the way you want it to. I thought leaving him would spare you from that. If we left him and they discovered him and executed him for being a spy like I thought they would, I thought it might be enough for you to move on. Just for you to know that maybe that part of him you were after was still there for a little bit. I thought it would be a good lie.”

“I know,” Tak says simply. “I don’t agree with you, and I wasn’t happy when I realized it, but… I understand. I forgive you.” Poe watches as they look towards Finn. “And thank you for convincing him.”

Immediately Poe can tell that Finn has several things he wants to say to that. That it wasn’t for them. That it wasn’t for Hux. But he can tell Finn also wants to get this over with as soon as possible and being argumentative won’t accomplish that.

“You’re welcome,” Finn says simply.

Poe nearly smiles as Rey leans into the ex-stormtrooper, bumping shoulders with him. He’s sure she must have been thinking the same thing; they still have a lot to get through, and it was good of him not to raise an argument, even when he could have. And by all means, was entitled to.

“The other thing I need to let you know is that I discovered Kylo Ren’s true identity before Crait—and before he killed Han,” Poe says, rubbing his hands together.

He can’t seem to get his palms to stop sweating. Likely because he knows what he’s about to say will upset one person in the room in particular. One of the two people he least wants to hurt now.

“When I was captured and tortured onboard that First Order ship, right before I met Finn,” Poe says, breathing out evenly as he continues to pace. “They couldn’t get anything out of me. I would have died before I willingly gave them anything to work with. So, Ren… he took it. He got inside my head and… see, the thing is, Luke had taught me before how to protect myself. I knew how to defend against that kind of attack. And you know, I think I could’ve beat him? Not full-on outdo him, but… force him to push hard enough to kill me. That’s what I planned. Because I wasn’t going to let him take what I had.”

He pauses, wetting his lips with his tongue and wishing again he’d had the foresight to bring water to this meeting.

“As I told you earlier, I knew Ben when we were kids, when we were growing up,” Poe explains, running a hand through his hair. He makes a point of looking anywhere but at Rey. “I thought what everyone else thought: that he’d been killed with the rest of Luke’s students by the Jedi Killer. But when Ren got into my head, he—I don’t know—slipped or something. Maybe he didn’t slip; maybe it was intentional... I'm not sure. But I felt it was him. I felt Ben in my head, but as something twisted and horrifying and… I lost my grip. That’s the best way I can put it. It shook me so hard that I couldn’t hold on to what Luke had taught me, and he was able to force his way in and take whatever he wanted. Like he may as well have been punching through a wet paper bag.”

His own honesty surprises him. He hadn’t meant to talk about this in any great detail, but somehow once he’d started, the words just came pouring out. He’d never discussed the matter beyond the barest facts; namely reporting to Leia that Kylo Ren had taken the information about BB-8 and the map to Luke from him. She hadn’t pressed him to explain further. She’d known what he meant by it.

Feeling a hand on his arm startles him from his reverie, literally. The contact makes him jump, if only slightly, and he remembers that he’s in the middle of a meeting, one he had called. But he looks down to find Rey and Finn both gazing up at him with worry. He wonders if they can feel the emotions churning inside him or if his words alone have been able to bring those looks to their faces. He’s not sure which idea he hates more. The scavenger tugs at his arm until he’s sitting at the table with them. He feels restless despite their clear desire to comfort him, and he wishes he’d just stayed standing.

“I didn’t tell Leia that I had found out, only that Ren had taken information from me by force,” Poe tells them. “I, uh… I didn’t know if she knew or not. Part of me knew that was a stupid question; that she must know, that she must have sensed her son hadn’t been killed back then. But I didn’t want to know that. I wanted to believe she had no idea, that she wouldn’t hide something like that from us. And I wanted… I wanted to believe I could help her. I got it in my head that I was going to kill him. Just kill him and never let her know who Ren really was, let everyone go on thinking Ben Solo had died a good man and that Ren was just some faceless monster. I thought if I did that, I could spare her from…”

From knowing her son had become this nightmare? The Jedi Killer? The dark presence that haunted the dreams of half the galaxy? From knowing her son was responsible for murdering thousands of innocent people? From knowing her son had betrayed them?

“From being hurt the way you had been,” Rey says.

Her eyes don’t hold the judgment he’d expected when he meets her gaze. Nor the anger or blame. There’s not an ounce of hatred to be found. Instead, she merely seems… sad.

“From being hurt. Right,” Poe says, clearing his throat as he carefully sidesteps her phrasing. “And I’m not gonna lie to you; part of me still wants him dead for everything he’s done. Part of me wants all three of them dead and out of our hair.”

“But you’re not going to let that happen,” Connix says with a certainty that bolsters Poe’s spirits. “I think we all know that.”

“Whatever I may personally think they deserve, you’re right; that’s not how we do things here,” Poe agrees. “Once this war is won, I’ll see them all tried in the New Republic for their crimes. And in the meantime, I’d like to see what use they can be to the Resistance. Mitaka, any thoughts on that?”

The former lieutenant seems startled at being addressed by him. But then, he’d looked as perplexed as Rose had when Poe had asked him to be here for this meeting. Poe has found him to be co-operative and even enthusiastic about his new place within the Resistance, which makes him think Mitaka may have insight into their three prisoners that the rest of them don’t. Or maybe he’s just worried about the thought of being tried as well.

“Well, I can’t really say much in regards to Lord R—ah, I mean… well, _him_ ,” Mitaka says with pointed emphasis, apparently trying to avoid referring to him by name. “Our interactions were limited and, I, uh… didn’t get the impression he liked me very much. Or liked anyone else very much, really. Except perhaps General Hux and Captain Phasma, in a way. Not that he _liked_ them, but… well, he tolerated them sometimes, at least. Which was more than could be said for anyone else.”

“Okay, we’ll put him aside for now,” Poe says with a nod of his head. He’s counting on Rey—and hopefully Leia—to be able to help them on that front. “What about Phasma and Hux?”

Mitaka’s eyes dart briefly away from him and over to Finn before once again finding a spot on the table. The cat in his lap purrs softly.

“I believe Commander Tak will agree with me when I say that Captain Phasma is a brilliant asset,” Mitaka informs them. “Her combat training and ability to train others are exceptionally valuable. Within the First Order, she was a dedicated leader and always set an example for those who followed her. Although there were a number of rumors surrounding her, rumors of violence among the ranks, of assassination, even… But since she has been Commander Tak’s traveling companion…”

He looks to Tak, clearly wishing for their input as well. The commander yawns sleepily, and Poe makes a mental note—they _all_ need some sleep. Bringing their prisoners before them will have to wait until tomorrow. The day has been eventful enough as it is, and he has more than enough to digest before questioning prisoners.

“Phasma has been surprisingly loyal,” Tak agrees. “My work with the Shistavanen people has been dangerous, as negotiations are frequently conducted through combat, a tradition known as _Dragr Kah_. She has had numerous opportunities to escape or even kill me but has never even considered it, from what I can tell through light scans of her thoughts through the Force. She has fought alongside me and even treated some of my worst injuries—injuries that had left me incapacitated for weeks. Phasma has participated in a number of these combat negotiations herself. She is a valuable ally, and I believe she can be trusted. For now.”

“Alright,” Poe says quickly, before anyone can use the opportunity to give any input on that. He can see that Finn and Rose, in particular, are looking somewhat agitated at the assessment of Phasma’s character, but he wants to keep the ball rolling on this. It’s getting late as it is, and he wants to wrap this up so he can prepare for their prisoners' questioning tomorrow. “I’ll take that into consideration. Mitaka, you wanna wrap this up with Hux, then?”

It doesn’t escape Poe’s notice that the former officer sits straighter at the sound of Hux’s name, his shoulders squared, and his attention laser-focused as though he were before the man himself. Poe doesn’t think Mitaka is cowardly by any means, but he’s proven to be more docile by nature than Poe would have considered typical among the First Order. It’s more of a statement than perhaps Mitaka realizes, Poe thinks. The First Order is a machine, and it forces its cogs into place if it must.

“General Hux was an exemplary officer; a great deal of us were fortunate to have served under him,” Mitaka says firmly. “It was… He took great pride in the work he did and in those who worked for him. Hard work was always encouraged and even praised when warranted. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t call him particularly _kind_ , but rather… well, for who we all were and who we worked for and the things we did… it was unusual. It was rare to be acknowledged in any meaningful way by one’s superiors, but there was an incident shortly after you’d escaped—…”

The confidence Poe had just been noting seems to evaporate in an instant. Color rises to Mitaka’s face as he snaps his mouth shut, apparently thinking he’d made a faux pas by mentioning Poe’s capture. Frankly, Poe’s had enough of thinking about the matter himself for the night, but if Mitaka has something useful to supply as to Hux’s character, he wants to hear it. As much as he loves Tak, their narrative regarding the man is, well… not exactly reliable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Poe says, waving a hand. He grins and jerks a thumb towards Finn. “I got a great friend out of it.”

Mitaka ducks his head in a nod, but deliberately avoids looking to either Finn or Rey. He strokes the cat in his lap so obsessively that Poe’s beginning to think the poor thing’s going to have a bald spot by the end of this.

“Well. You see, I had to deliver news to… to Lord… to Lord—ah—Ben? …it’s just that he was Lord Ren at the time, but I believe he’s no longer calling himself… well…”

“I think for the intents and purposes of past interaction, you can just call him whatever you used to,” Poe says, watching the man grow increasingly flustered as he tried to decide. The pilot glances at Rey, knowing she is primarily why Mitaka seemed to be debating himself. “Right?”

Rey offers him a slight smile—he knows she wants them all to call him “Ben.” Especially now that he’s seemingly returned to them, at least in her eyes. But she’s levelheaded enough, from what it looks like, to not expect it to change overnight. She turns her head and nods at Mitaka.

“I agree,” Rey says. “For now, I believe it may be easier to simply refer to him as you knew him. But… thank you.”

The former lieutenant clears his throat with a nod of his head but doesn’t seem any more comfortable for having their permission.

“I had to inform him that we were unable to recover your droid and that it had escaped on board a freighter with both of you,” Mitaka says, nodding towards Rey and Finn. “He didn’t take very well to the news and, well, he used the Force to…”

He pauses to make a brief strangling motion mid-air, apparently not wanting to have to admit to the act out loud. Poe is pretty sure they all know precisely what he’s saying anyway and so nods his head and motions for the ex-lieutenant to continue.

“…in any case, I was discussing the incident with two other officers on the bridge in what I thought had been a fairly inconspicuous manner, but General Hux must have managed to overhear… or perhaps I didn’t cover the bruising as well as I thought I had… I’m not sure, frankly,” Mitaka says. “He dismissed the other officers and took me aside. He asked how it had happened, asked if I had been seen by medical. After I had explained the matter, he instructed me to take leave for the remainder of my shift and assured me he would deal with the matter personally. I… later heard from my peers that the General, well… had words with Lord Ren. When I next saw him, General Hux once again inquired about my well-being and informed me that no such incidents would occur in the future and, if they did, that I should report to him immediately so that he might remind Lord Ren that his officers were not playthings.”

Once again, Poe marvels that even the most basic act of kindness—and not even that, but simple professional courtesy—seems like moving mountains to someone in the First Order. Or formerly, rather. Something as simple as asking not to be choked out by a co-worker appears to have been enough to inspire Mitaka to pitch a tent at Camp Hux.

“I know that to all of you that may not be a terribly moving example,” Mitaka says hurriedly. “But you must understand that this sort of thing was not at all typical. General Hux had developed a reputation as demanding but fair-minded, and a good number of us considered ourselves fortunate to have been assigned to his ship. In fact, I have a very strong suspicion that certain individuals were more loyal to the General than to the Order itself.”

“Individuals like yourself?” Rose asks.

Poe is surprised when Mitaka doesn’t shrink under her withering gaze. “Yes. Which is why I believe he will be an indispensable asset to the Resistance.”

Finn shoots Poe a look that says he’s not convinced, and Poe finds himself readjusting his thoughts regarding the weight of Mitaka’s opinion. It seems he and Tak may be more like-minded than Poe had bargained for. Regardless, Poe needs time to think about all of this. And sleep. _Boy_ , does he need sleep.

“Alright,” Poe says, clapping his hands and rising from his seat. “I think I’ve heard what I need to for now. We should all take the night to process everything that’s happened and prepare for what we have to do tomorrow. Before we say or do anything else, I think we all need a good night’s sleep. Agreed?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from around the table, though a few of those murmurs sound less enthusiastic than others.

“Alright, we’ll reconvene here at 0900,” Poe says with finality.

As he departs from the conference room, Poe’s tired head is spinning with questions. Questions he wants answered _now_. And maybe with a few things he wants to get off his chest as loudly as possible. But he’s sure it wouldn’t be a good look for the Acting General to go tearing into the holding cells like rampaging rancor. Of course, he should have known he wouldn’t make it to his bed without interruption regardless of this fact.

“Poe, can we talk?”

Looking over his shoulder, Poe finds Rey and Finn looking to him expectantly. He finishes punching in his door code and stands back, slinging out an arm to usher them inside.

“Come on in.”


	7. midnight meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With night comes conversation; some which are welcome, others not.

Although this isn’t the first time Finn has been in Poe’s quarters, it’s the first time since they’d both confessed to wanting something more than friendship. Nothing about the small room has changed, but the space still feels different. It feels charged with an energy that had been lurking beneath suddenly brought to the forefront like a mighty creature of the deep breaching the surface of the sea.

“Make yourselves at home,” Poe says as the hiss of the closing door follows them. “I mean, as much as you can anyway.”

“We’re not looking to keep you awake,” Rey says, testing the waters.

Poe waves a dismissive hand. “For you two, I can make time.”

BB-8 beeps in agreement from where she’d rolled up to greet them. Well, it’s good to know they have her support, anyway.

“I just wanted to have a minute for the three of us to talk,” Finn says, leaning against the wall. He glances at Rey, who nods in answer. “About the three of us.”

Poe squints as though he doesn’t quite catch Finn’s drift, but a mere moment later, his eyes go wide as he realizes just what sort of talk this is meant to be. He clears his throat, running a hand through the mess of curls atop his head and seeming as though he may regret having allowed them in.

“Right. That. Look—”

“I want to try it,” Rey says loudly.

Finn tries not to laugh. Rey never does anything by halves, and this apparently is no different.

“Uh…” is all Poe can muster.

“Rey and I talked,” Finn clarifies. “I told her about the conversation you and I had and about your concerns, and she thought it would be best if we cleared the air as soon as possible.”

“Did you tell her _everything_ I said? You know, about being too old and not wanting to get between—” Poe says quickly. He puts his hands on his hips and turns to face Rey. “Did he tell you?”

“Did he tell me all the ridiculous, self-conscious thoughts you shared with him?” Rey says, folding her arms across her chest and arching an eyebrow. “Yes, he did. And for stars’ sake, you’re not _old_ , Poe.”

“Of course I’m not _old_ ,” Poe says indignantly, as though she’s entirely misunderstood him. He shakes a finger in Finn’s face when he dares to snort a laugh before looking back to Rey. “But I’m older than _you_.”

“And I don’t care,” Rey says firmly. “Neither does Finn.”

“Nope,” Finn says in agreement. “Don’t care. So, what I want to know is: are you making excuses because of something you don’t want to tell us?”

The thought had been nagging at Finn since their brief moment together between the bunkers. It seemed strange that Poe would be willing to confess his feelings but have so many hang-ups about acting on them. Of course, Finn had heard the rumors; that Poe was the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type. Frankly, he hadn’t put much stock in them. But being faced with this kind of resistance makes him wonder if Poe simply isn’t as monogamous as he thinks this relationship would require him to be.

“What? No,” Poe answers immediately. “Of course not.”

Rey cocks her head to the side. “I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling us.”

Finn watches as Poe scrubs his hands over his face. They’re all exhausted after the past few days, but as tired as he is, Finn knows he won’t sleep until they’ve talked about this. It’s clear there’s something between the three of them; something special. It’s not that he expected this to be easy; however, he’s surprised with the walls Poe has put up.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Poe says suddenly. “I don’t want to die.”

Rey shoots Finn a confused look, but he doesn’t have the answer she’s looking for. Instead, the scavenger-turned-Jedi looks back to Poe.

“We don’t want you to die either,” she says slowly.

“Exactly!” Poe says triumphantly, as though this has explained everything.

“You wanna maybe elaborate on that?” Finn asks.

Poe huffs an annoyed sigh but accepts his request. “Look, it’s just… I’m a pilot. My mom was a pilot. And when she was killed, I was devastated. But beyond that, I could see how much it hurt my dad. It’s not something he ever really recovered from, right up to the day he died. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to leave behind people who will feel that pain for the rest of their lives.”

It seems like such a simple reason, but Finn knows it had been hard for Poe to say. He doesn’t like talking about his past or his family except in the vaguest of ways. He doesn’t want to talk about the things that have hurt him. On top of recounting his torture at the hands of Kylo Ren and the First Order, today has undoubtedly been stressful for Poe in ways that might not be so plain to see.

“Do you really think that would protect us from being hurt?” Rey asks softly. “That we wouldn’t mourn?”

“Yes,” Poe says. He shifts uneasily. “No. I don’t know. This was never supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to…”

“Fall in love?” Finn ventures.

Poe sighs as he sits on the edge of his bunk, looking as tired as they all feel. But he doesn’t object when Finn and Rey approach, sitting on either side of him. He’s warm against Finn’s side, and the ex-stormtrooper can’t help but lean in, looking for more of that warmth, that contact. He reaches behind Poe, somehow already knowing he’ll find Rey’s hand waiting there for him. Her calloused hand brushes against his, and he neatly slots them together, their fingers intertwining as though they’d been doing this for years.

“Don’t we get a say in this?” Rey wants to know.

“Of course,” Poe says. “I just want to do the right thing.”

“We can’t know what that is unless we try,” Finn points out.

Forcing Poe into something he doesn’t want is the last thing that Finn wants to do. But he’s confident this is something Poe wants. He just needs a little push to get there. It’s not that Finn and Rey aren’t scared, too—they’re just not willing to allow that fear to keep them from what they want.

“And like I said… I want to try it,” Rey says, her words still full of conviction.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you guys this is a bad idea, am I?” Poe asks.

“Not even if you had a million years to do it,” Finn assures him.

“And you’re both sure about this?” Poe asks.

The pilot hisses in pain as BB-8 rolls up, knocking him in the shin. It seems she’s even more impatient than Finn and Rey are. Poe reaches down, patting the top of her head fondly.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the questions,” he says with a laugh. He clears his throat and looks from Finn to Rey and back. “So… how did you want to do this?”

“I want to sleep,” Rey says bluntly.

Poe’s laugh echoes Finn’s. Rey rolls her eyes at the two of them.

“I’m tired,” she emphasizes. “And I know you are as well. Poe, do suppose your bed could fit all three of us?”

Poe looks surprised but glances behind him, taking stock of what they have to work with. He’s quiet for a long while, to the point where Finn starts to worry it was the wrong thing for Rey to have said. But a moment later, Poe grins, placing his hands on either of their knees.

“We can certainly try.”

* * *

There is a knock at the door.

Hux scowls, hating that he’s been dragged into this once again. He’s never sure what to call it. He would say it was a dream, except he knows it’s something that is actually occurring. Although it’s typically when Hux is sleeping, when his defenses are down, Ren has no qualms about barging into his mind whenever he feels the need.

And that’s what gives Hux pause.

Ren never _knocks_.

He recalls the last time Ren had been in his head—when the scavenger girl had been there—and the uncharacteristic gentleness he’d displayed. Hux doesn’t hold his breath about the man turning over a new leaf, but perhaps he’s attempting to be civil going forward. Likely to keep himself in good standing Resistance.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Hux leaves his seat by the hearth and crosses the room to the door of the hut. Bracing himself for the overwhelming sensation of Ren’s presence, he opens the door.

Except it’s not Ren.

“Hello, Armitage.”

Hux feels a strange sensation, as though some sort of déjà vu had whiplashed him. He wonders how you can feel dizzy when you’re inside your own head.

“ _You_ ,” he says pointedly.

The Shistavanen at his doorstep merely smiles, their ears folding back amiably in a manner which is far too familiar for Hux’s liking. They’re a far larger specimen than they were the last time the two of them had met—their figure occupies the entire doorway and then some. But they appear the same as Hux recalls, just… larger. Grown. Adult.

“Yes, me,” Tak says. “Surprised?”

“Not pleasantly,” Hux says stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk,” Tak says simply. They cock their head to the side. “Oh, you mean here, in your head. I apologize, I usually don’t like to show up unannounced, but I felt I could not wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Hux questions.

“When they question you,” Tak explains.

“I should have known you’d ended up with the Resistance somehow,” Hux snorts.

“Oh, come now, surely you must have kept track of me,” Tak says with another grin. “I certainly kept track of you.”

“Congratulations,” Hux says dryly. “Unfortunately, you’re not quite as worthy of my time as you believe yourself to be.”

“Mm,” Tak merely hums. “Well, regardless, if you would like to ensure your continued survival, it would be in your best interest to work with me. May I come in?”

Oh, so they _can_ play, then. Those smiles hadn’t fooled Hux—he knows a predator when he sees one. However, they’ve made a fair point; Hux is looking to remain among the living, and his chances of doing so unaided are not favorable. He doesn’t think for a minute that he can trust Tak, but he supposes he could at least hear what they have to offer.

“If you must,” Hux says tersely, walking away without another word and resuming his seat by the hearth.

He hears the door close gently as the hulking figure squeezes through the doorway. They pause at the entryway, glancing around themself curiously.

“This was your mother’s home,” Tak says, running a hand over the wall. “You used to speak of it often. It is interesting to see it now for myself.”

“If you came here with something to say, hurry up and say it,” Hux says, ignoring their commentary. “I don’t like having you in my head.”

“There was a time when you did not mind so,” Tak reminds him.

“Do you mean thirty years ago?” Hux asks with a snort. “I was a _child_. How was I to know you were merely manipulating me?”

“You forget that I was a child as well,” Tak says, taking the seat beside him and staring into the roaring fire. They make a moment to look him up and down, and Hux does his best to ignore their roving eyes. “The years have not been kind to you, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Hux retorts sharply. “And contrary to your erroneous opinion, I’ve done exceedingly well for myself. Now, would you please get to the point so we can finish this little visit as soon as possible?”

“You know, even if you do not consider me to be your friend, I consider you to be mine,” Tak says, their tone gentle in a way that makes Hux feel sick to his stomach. “I have been trying to reach you for many years, and I would like to help you now.”

“Out of the goodness of your own heart?” Hux asks mockingly.

“Because I believe there is good in you,” Tak says, ignoring the jab. “Even if you do not believe it exists.”

“Let me guess: you expect me to break down and fall to your arms, sobbing pitifully about how right you are and how desperately I’ve wanted to be good but just didn’t have the help I needed,” Hux says flatly. “Help, which you, undoubtedly, will tell me you can provide.”

Tak doesn’t answer him. They merely stare back at him with a sort of sadness and pity in their eyes which makes Hux’s blood boil. Damn their pity. He’s not to be pitied.

“Did you not feel it?” Tak asks him, seemingly unphased by his insults. “When our bond was severed?”

Unwittingly, Hux feels himself lose his footing in the present. Flashes of pain, unlike anything he had ever felt echo through his memory, and he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes to block it out. He puts it back where it belongs—the past. He takes a moment to collect himself, the weight of their lingering gaze, making him feel tense and defensive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says stiffly.

“You do,” Tak argues. “I can sense it.”

“Well, then you must _sense_ how much I want you to get out,” Hux sneers.

“I sense you are conflicted,” Tak says in an annoyingly patient tone of voice. “You want me out, but you do not wish for me to leave.”

“And did the Force tell you that?” Hux asks.

“Yes,” Tak says.

“A little mind trick Skywalker taught you, no doubt,” Hux says moodily, not appreciating having his thoughts and emotions an open book to anyone.

“Master Luke taught me many things,” Tak affirms. “Such as the fact that attachments would keep me from achieving the rank of Jedi Master.”

“I assume there’s some reason you’re telling me this,” Hux says, his tone one of practiced boredom. “Other than to waste my time.”

They smile at him again. Hux wonders if they find his remarks genuinely amusing or if they simply can’t think of anything to counter them. Or perhaps it’s just a polite silence as a holding place for a rude response. He finds the latter much more likely.

“I shed my attachments and was, therefore, able to achieve the rank of Master,” Tak says.

“Well, from what I understand, that’s more than Ren can say at least,” Hux snorts.

The beast nods in affirmation. Ren had mentioned it when they’d first met, thought Hux hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, though, he just sees it as evidence that Ren can never follow anything through. He stays as long as it can hold his attention, and then, like a child, he drops it once he’s found a new toy to play with.

“I was only able to do so because I did not believe you had survived the raid on Arkanis which separated us,” Tak explains. “When our bond was severed, I assumed it was because you had been killed.”

“And yet here I am,” Hux says. “I believe you’ll find I’m more difficult to kill than most people give me credit for.”

“I am telling you this because Master Luke knew of my attachment to you,” Tak says, proceeding as though he hadn’t said anything at all. “He knew that I reached for you through the Force every night across the stars for decades. And he knew that your survival was knowledge which would prevent me from furthering my training as a Jedi. Once I had been granted the title of Master, he chose to inform me. I am ashamed to say I lost my temper and allowed my anger to rule my judgment. I lashed out at him and decided to forsake my Jedi path, instead using everything I had learned to tread whichever path would lead me to you.”

“How flattering,” Hux mutters. “And so how does it feel, having done all you have only to find me now, here?”

He’s not that scared, pathetic little boy anymore. He’s not what they remember, what they’d been chasing after. Hux waits in gleeful anticipation for their expression to crumble into regret and disappointment.

It doesn’t.

“To see you again, at last, I am pleased beyond measure,” Tak says, much to his surprise. “I wish our paths had remerged sooner, but it was simply not meant to be. I have reconciled with who you have grown to be as a man, but there is still time.”

“Time for what, exactly?” Hux wants to know. “Time for me to make an _astonishing_ about-face into whatever the Resistance deems to be redeemable?”

Tak doesn’t look at him as they rise from their seat. They cast their gaze around the hut’s interior, as though to memorize its walls, before turning away from him and walking to the door.

“Time for you to be someone you could have been.”

* * *

Sunlight streams through the single window of his cell as Hux wakes in a cold sweat. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. Although he feels rested, he wouldn’t exactly say he feels particularly refreshed. His thigh aches, and his head feels… fuzzy. He remembers the Shistavanen in his thoughts, appearing out of the ether like a specter from the past come to torment him. He had done everything in his power to bury that part of his life. He had destroyed their file, wiped any trace of them from the First Order’s records. But there were some things which couldn’t be erased.

His hand strays to his right shoulder. Though he can’t physically feel it through his clothing, he knows the scar is there, sure as anything. In fact, he swears he can nearly feel it throbbing, as though it were still fresh. His lip curls in distaste—the scar which is a partner to the one on that beast’s face. Just one more thing about them that he couldn’t erase. It’s a permanent reminder etched into his skin. There are some days when he can still feel the agony of the neuronic whip’s heavy cable tearing through his flesh if he allows his mind to wander. It’s an incident that’s impossible for him to forget, no matter how long ago it had been. That burning, searing pain that had stolen his breath and left him in a hiccupping, sobbing heap in the mud.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Useless.

All the things his father said he was. Well, at least he was never so weak as to look for the solution to his problems at the bottom of a bottle. No, he doesn’t care to remember it, but neither does he seek the embrace of an alcohol-induced haze to escape it. Alcohol is a weak man’s crutch, indulged in by feeble-willed individuals looking to hide from the things they don’t care to remember. He’d rather suffer the memory than risk the vulnerability of inebriation. He’ll fight the memories tooth and nail, beat them back to the darkest recesses of his mind that he can reach. He’ll hold on to his anger, his bitterness, and use it to push himself forward. So yes, the memory is always there. Something he can never put out of his mind completely, merely seek temporary reprise from.

There had been questions during his academy days, certainly. Where his scars had come from, why there seemed to be so many of them. It wasn’t the sort of situation where one could simply tell the truth. So he had hidden it in a lie—a skill which he honed like a fine blade as he grew. His scars came not at his father’s hand, but as a result of the hardships his family had faced in evading the New Republic’s forces and establishing the First Order. They were a badge of honor, not a mark of weakness. He’d come up with some genuinely fantastic tales, most of which managed to get the questions to stop and his classmates off his back.

…mostly.

Hux scowls as rises to his feet, using the pain of his leg to distract himself. He paces until his thigh burns with shooting pain that cuts through the dense fog of his thoughts. His late-night visitor seems to have triggered his mind to dwell on past events. This isn’t something he needs. The past is the past. Over and done. And it should stay that way.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for him. Up until this point, Hux has dealt with his people problems in the most logical way possible—by eliminating them. There really was nothing quite like watching his own father dissolve in a bacta tank. Or tactfully and discreetly killing off his father’s old friends, crushing the dying embers of the former Empire under his heel. Old academy classmates and past tormentors, he’d gotten to nearly all of them eventually.

_Nearly_ all of them. Not Pryde, though. No, Enric Pryde had eluded him. The last name on a long list of people that he had aided in climbing into the graves they had dug for themselves long ago. Apart from his father, Pryde had been the one person he most longed to erase from the galaxy. No one else had managed to degrade him to the level which Pryde had. Worse yet, Ren had promoted him to the very title Hux himself had coveted for so long.

Ren.

Knowing he’s within one of the nearby cells is enough to turn Hux’s stomach. How _dare_ he show himself here? After everything Hux had done to escape him, to leave him to go down with the wreck of the Order he had destroyed… he would have to find some way to undermine Hux’s efforts yet again. But of course, Hux should have known he would go crawling back to his mother in the end. Ren had always been weak; this should hardly be surprising.

The sound of the door opening draws his attention, and the sight of a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Poe Dameron does nothing to improve his mood. Of course, Dameron’s probably elated at the chance to tear into him. Well, Hux isn’t planning to give him or anyone else the satisfaction.

“Morning, Hugs,” the pilot says. “I’d ask how you slept, but from the looks of you I’d go with ‘not well.’”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hux grumbles.

He can feel Poe’s gaze fixed on him, watching the way he limps out the door. Yes, clad in standard Resistance clothing and limping his way out of a cell is exactly how Hux envisioned all of this. He wonders how it could possibly get any worse.

* * *

Ben hasn’t slept.

He’s not sure he could have if he tried. He can sense Hux in the cell to his right and Phasma to his left, though he hasn’t yet laid eyes on the general. Or formal general. Frankly, he’s not sure how that works. In any case, this will be the first time the two of them have met face-to-face since Hux had boarded the _Falcon_ and left the First Order.

Ben isn’t expecting Hux to be pleased to see him. Not that he ever had been before, but now in particular. Although he’s stayed out of the general’s head, he hasn’t been able to tune out the negative emotions brewing in that cell like caf in a pot. It’s too loud, too much of an assault on his senses, to be ignored. Maybe it wouldn’t be half as strong if the two of them weren’t bound together, for better or for worse.

Comparably, the aura surrounding Phasma is almost… peaceful. She seems relatively unbothered by her present circumstances, but given that they had been positive she’d been killed a year prior, perhaps that’s not so shocking. Ben has no idea what she had been doing for the past year, apart from traveling with Tak. Frankly, with what he remembers of the Shistavanen, maybe Phasma’s peaceful state of mind shouldn’t be all that shocking.

Tak had always connected better than he had with the spiritual side of the Force. Ben had always been better with the more, well… forceful aspects of the Force. His lightsaber technique was second-to-none, and his strength was nearly unmatched. But he had struggled to make a connection with past Jedi, who had left the physical world and become one with the Force. And it had only seemed to grow more complicated as he’d aged. It had been frustrating reaching for others and getting nothing. Reaching for his grandfather and getting nothing but the silence of his own mind. He had envied Tak’s natural aptitude. He had envied their ability to surround themself with the presence of others when he had felt so alone. The dead avoided him just the same as the living.

But now isn’t really the time to be dwelling on all of that. They’d all made their choices, and now they must live with them. The sound of his cell door being opened catches his attention, and when he lifts his head, he finds Poe standing in the doorway.

“Ben.”

The greeting is curt, the accompanying nod perfunctory. Not that Ben had expected anything different. But Poe is choosing to call him by his given name when, really, he could just as easily pretend they’d never had anything to do with one another. Poe would most likely prefer that were true.

“We’re taking the three of you to a conference room for questioning,” Poe explains, folding his arms across his chest. “Now, I’ve made the choice to keep your hands free. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Really?” Ben asks, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little foolish on your part?”

“Remember two seconds ago when I said, ‘Don’t make me regret it’?” Poe asks flatly. “You’re not off to a great start.”

“I just figured I’d state the obvious,” Ben says, rising from where he’d been sitting on the bed, “so I could be sure I’d heard you right.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ll find the Resistance actually gives a shit about the people in their custody,” Poe says, stepping aside to allow him out. “We tend not to lock people in torture chambers and strap them down to beat information out of them.”

Ah. Right. They had done that to him, hadn’t they?

Ben merely grunts in acknowledgment before stepping out of the cell. It’s bright. Even with the sunlight he had coming through the window in his cell, it takes his eyes several moments to adjust to the light. But when they finally do, he sees Hux standing a mere six feet away from him. Ben doesn’t think he’s seen Hux under anything but artificial light. He looks… different here, now, in the sunlight. He looks different wearing anything other than his crisp, black First Order uniform. He looks different, staring at Ben with something like wonder on his face.

…ah.

But he’s not staring _at_ Ben; he’s staring _past_ him.

He turns his head to see Phasma standing outside her cell. She nods—once to Ben and once to Hux. There’s a difference between the two, though. With Hux, he swears he nearly sees a smile on her face. The two of them had always been closer to each other than to him. Or, rather, it might be better to say _he_ wasn’t close to either of them.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Poe says, disrupting his thoughts. He looks to each of them in turn. “One step out of line, and we break out the binders. Got it?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Hux drawls.

Well, it seems Hux still doesn’t know when to shut his mouth. Then again, neither does Ben. It’s kind of been their thing for the past six years, no reason it should stop now that they’re here.

“I’m not joking, Hux,” Poe says firmly. “Now, _move it_.”

The walk to the conference room is silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone still keeping up with this. I have so much planned but getting it out and onto the page is hard sometimes. The past few months have been hard, as I know they have been for everyone. I hope you're all staying safe and doing well. And lastly I would like to mention two things.
> 
> 1) This author stands with people of color. Stay aware, stay vocal, and, if you can, [please donate](https://nymag.com/strategist/article/where-to-donate-for-black-lives-matter.html). Black Lives Matter is more than a hashtag. It's more than taking a picture of yourself holding a sign at a protest. Don't let this go away and don't let yourselves fall silent. 
> 
> 2) In reference to the former, please [register to vote](https://www.vote.org/voter-registration-deadlines/) if you're not registered already! Even if you've missed the deadline for your state elections, you can register to vote the next time. Change won't come by itself and we need to stand by each other to make it happen. No matter what country you live in, vote for change. Vote for a better tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Be well and know that you matter, that you are loved, and that you deserve better. <3


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